Soul Eater: Karma and Reaction
by Keyworks Kid
Summary: A post-manga continuation: the DWMA and the Witches' Coven are officially at peace, but questions about the future still remain. Even with the dawning of a new era of Meisters and Weapons, the world will soon learn that centuries of bloodshed won't be washed away so easily and every decision has its price. Get ready, because you're in for one hell of a ride. Rated T for language.
1. The Faults of Our Endeavors

Chapter 1: The Faults of Our Endeavors: Where Do We Go From Here, Lord Death?

Striding lazily beneath the series of guillotine arches that led into the inner sanctum of the Death Room, it was still difficult for the young man to comprehend that all that lay before him was now partly under his jurisdiction. With hands haphazardly tucked away into the pockets of his black leather coat, a toothy smile crept over his face knowing that he now had the authority to come and go from Lord Death's domain as he pleased without a need for an appointment. Although, he thought, he never really entered the Death Room via a schedule in the past, as it was more often than not the result of his juvenile antics that he was sent to stand trial before Lord Death. Even still, now that he and the newly crowned shinigami were on partnered terms, there were a lot of perks that came with his new-found position that he could get used to.

Arriving into the open-aired expanse of the Death Room, the pointy white-haired man looked around to see that although very little had changed from the past, quite a bit had been done in the way of rearranging since the last time he had visited. The prominent mirror still loomed proudly upon the circular platform in the center of the room, but the addition of several plush chairs and bookshelves caught his eye, not for the reason of being new, but the meticulous way in which they were arranged. There were eight chairs in total, neatly aligned down to the last degree in a perfectly symmetrical display around the circular table upon the platform. The bookshelves beside them, too, were balanced in their obsessively neurotic arrangement. However, the most striking of all things were the black crosses that once stood in chaotic disarray about the Death Room. Now perfectly aligned into ranks and files, they seemed almost unsettling to look at as they stood tall and straight against the desert landscape and blue sky.

Making his way towards the platform, it appeared that he was fashionably late to the gathering, as the laughter of numerous voices already filled the sanctuary, oblivious to his arrival. As he walked up the short steps, it was the greeting of his original Meister that reached out to welcome him first.

"Soul!" the cheerful voice of Maka rang out, giving a friendly wave from her seat. "Took you long enough!"

With an unenthusiastic reply, the Death Scythe raised his right hand out of his pocket and returned the gesture, circling around the congregation and plopping down into the comfortable chair next to Maka. On her other side, Black Star and Tsubaki were present as well, informally dressed in their workout sweats and sipping from water bottles. From the looks of it they had just finished up with their morning training regiment which Black Star had been recently pushing to even higher levels of insanity than before.

"Yeah, yeah," Soul droned exhaustively, shutting his eyes and resting his cheek on the side of the plushy chair. "My bad, I overslept. Why didn't you wake me up?"

"I tried to," the sandy-blonde replied unamused. "I came in and shook you, but you didn't respond. I even tried bringing you breakfast in bed and you wouldn't get up. So I left you."

A fit of violent laughter erupted from Black Star at the prospect.

"Soul not getting up for food?!" he questioned, clutching his already aching core muscles. "That's a new one on me! You've got to be the laziest Death Scythe I've ever seen!"

"Be nice, Black Star," Tsubaki chided mildly, taking another sip of her water. Although her partner had matured greatly both physically and mentally over their ordeal with the Kishin Asura, his egotistical friendship with Soul still remained as childish as ever.

"Hey, it's not my problem," her Meister stated. "If he just wants to sleep all day, who am I to stop him? That just means he'll never be as big of a star as me!"

"So uncool," the weary Death Scythe mumbled.

"As much as I dislike agreeing with him," an even voice stated. "I certainly do hope you're going to be taking your new responsibilities more seriously, Soul. I can't have you neglecting your position already. It would reflect poorly upon both you and myself."

Emerging from out of the standing mirror that towered before them, the new Lord Death stepped forward into the confines of the Death Room, followed on either side by his trusty female gunslingers, each of whom was carrying a silver platter with an assortment of pastries and silver kettles.

"If I knew I was just going to get griped at I would have stayed in bed," Soul announced with displeasure.

"Here!" the younger of the sisters sang happily, pouring out and thrusting a cup of steaming darkened liquid into his face. "Have some tea! It'll cheer that grumpy face right up!"

Although he didn't necessarily want it, the Death Scythe flickered open his eyes and sat upright in the chair. Taking the cup and saucer in his hands, he eyed the beverage curiously for a moment.

"Since when do you guys drink tea?" he questioned, watching as everyone save for Black Star accepted a cup of their own.

"Having tea was always something that was habitual with Father," Kid mused with a tinge of grief in his voice. "I never truly understood why, but I supposed it helped to calm him and allowed him to think with a balanced mind. I am hoping for the same results as well."

It was painfully obvious to see that although Kid tried to rationalize the drinking of tea for its benefits, his true reason was that of a memorial. Knowing this, Maka forced a happy smile and raised her cup over the table.

"To Death," she toasted, knowing that deep down inside all of them, as well as all of Shibusen, missed their beloved leader every day. However, to Kid, he had been so much more than that.

"To Death," the group replied in unison, clicking their cups together in remembrance.

"To Father," Kid stated weakly, putting on his best facade.

Bringing the cups to their lips, a look of repugnance spread over all their faces as they got the first taste of the concoction. All except for Black Star, who had not taken any of the liquid, and Patty, who sipped hers merrily.

"This is really…unique," Maka forced with all the politeness she could muster, swallowing with a grimace.

"Yes, it's very…different," Tsubaki added.

"Patty?" Liz questioned, looking at her cup with caution. "Exactly what did you put in this tea?"

"Oh!" the Demon Pistol replied with bubbly obliviousness. "Well, I just put the tea in the boiling water like you said, Sis! But we didn't have any sugar, so I used some lemon candy instead!"

"Lemon candy?" her older sibling replied, befuddled. "We don't have any lemon candy. Where did you get it?"

"From the bathroom! There was a whole bag just full of them!"

"The bathroom?" Liz responded, now fully confused.

"Patty," Kid stated bluntly to the ditzy youngster, setting his saucer down on the table before them. "That wasn't candy. Those were cough drops."

Following the shinigami's lead, everyone else placed the medicinal brew in front of them, not wanting to hurt the demon pistol's feelings for her forgivable mistake.

"Oops!" Patty apologized with a cutesy grin. "Sorry about that, Kid!"

"Still good though," she added, taking another gulp from her cup.

After declining the tea, the Spartoi members reached for the assortment of donuts, kolaches, and danishes, hoping that Liz's culinary skills were at least slightly better than those of her sister.

"Don't worry," she reassured. "They're store bought."

Digging in to the welcome morning snack, the gang helped themselves to the food; a pleasant way to start an otherwise uneventful day.

"So what's up, Kid?" Black Star asked with half a mouth still full of kolache. "Why did you call us to the Death Room on a Saturday? Couldn't we have just met up at Maka's place like normal later on?"

"I suppose we could have," Kid replied, mentally counting the sprinkles on his donut to ensure that there was an even number of them present. "However, there are some topics of importance that I wished to discuss with all of you, and I felt it would be better if we got used to coming into the DWMA on weekends. We are about to be getting very busy very quickly."

"What sort of important topics?" Tsubaki asked.

"Ones that concern not only us, but the entire Academy. Namely our future young Meisters and Weapons," Kid began, satisfied with his sprinkle count. "As you are all more than aware of, we are now on somewhat of good terms with the Witches' Coven. It is still highly shaky ground at the moment, but their display of trustworthiness during the fight with Asura has led me to believe that we can forge a peaceful existence with the witches, despite their Pull of Magic. I think that with the help of Kim and the witch Angela Leon, we can help bring that into existence. But this alliance also leads us into a paradoxical problem in the way of Soul."

"Huh?!" the bewildered scythe questioned, pointing to himself. "What do I have to do with the witches?"

"It's quite simple really," the shinigami continued. "During my coronation as the new Lord Death, I attempted to appease the witches by declaring that you would forever be known as 'The Last Death Scythe'. Now that I have had time to think upon it, however, that announcement only opened up many new problems for us. With you as the last Death Scythe, the DWMA has now formally agreed that we will no longer be hunting down witches' souls. However, with no witches' souls to consume, we can no longer make the students into Death Scythes, defeating the main foundation of the Academy. As of now, there are only a handful of Death Scythes available to me worldwide, but this will not remain the case forever. As a shinigami, I have come to terms that I will outlive all of you by a significant span and I will eventually be left without a Death Scythe with which to fulfill my duties as Lord Death. If a kishin as powerful as Asura were to ever return, I would have no way with which to defeat it."

"Now that you mention it, this actually is a really big problem for you," Tsubaki stated somewhat dejectedly, knowing that the pact with the witches meant she would probably never reach the rank of Death Scythe. "As Weapons, we can collect the ninety-nine kishin eggs, but without being able to get a witch's soul, our entire purpose for becoming a Weapon you can use no longer exists. If that's the case, what are future students at the Academy supposed to strive towards other than the ninety-nine souls?"

"Sounds like we're in a bit of a jam," Liz observed.

"Oh, I love jam! Especially with toast!" Patty cheered happily. "Hey, Sis, what's the difference between jam and jelly?!"

"I…I'm not sure," the pistol replied, now seriously contemplating the difference in the two.

"The double-edged sword involving the Witches Coven is also only part of our problem," Kid continued on, ignoring the ramblings of the sisters. "There is also the matter of the future of the faculty to discuss. I have spoken with many of them individually and a fair majority of them have expressed desires to retire in the near future, or at least take on a less active role within the academy. Others will be promoted and reorganized to fill in our many gaps. Death Scythe Tsar Puska and the traitor Justin Law are now deceased. Tezca Tlipoca is no longer of use to me as a Weapon in his current state. And Jinn Galland, Dengu Dinga, and Miss Azusa have all requested to return to their respective stations. I offered Sid and Nygus the stations in Europe and Russia, but they respectfully declined, wishing to put the needs of the students first. Sid wants to continue teaching and Nygus enjoys her work as the Head Nurse."

"I know Papa has been wanting to take it easy ever since our battle on the moon," Maka stated. "And Professor Stein and Miss Marie are going to want to take some time away from the Academy once the baby is almost here."

"Heh, knowing your dad he's probably 'taking it easy' right now with those two witches at ChupaCabra's," Soul grinned.

"Maka Chop!" the Meister shouted, bringing her heavy book to bear against his skull.

"What was that for?!" Soul grimaced, rubbing the knot that now protruded out of his head.

An annoyed look from the green-eyed Meister was all the response he received.

"But what about this," Liz spoke up. "Why not just ask the witches if we can have their souls when they die? Witches die of old age, even if it takes longer than normal, so why not just see if we can put their souls to good use afterwards?"

"That's pretty much useless," Black Star countered. "Might as well just hand the spoiled brats the witches' souls. Sure, we can make them into Death Scythes, but what's the point if they didn't push themselves to earn it. I know I would never be able to call myself 'The Man Who Surpassed God' if I just got a free handout. Right, Tsubaki?"

"Right," his partner confirmed with a small nod.

"Again, I have to agree with Black Star on this," Kid replied. "That would only create Death Scythes of a lower quality than in the past, which I will not tolerate. As well, I believe it is still far too early to be asking the Witches Coven for the use of their souls. Doing that will only cause unnecessary tension between us during these fragile times."

"So what are you thinking of doing now?" Maka questioned, wondering what all of this information meant for all of them and Shibusen.

"For the time being, the DWMA will continue its intended mission of locating and capturing kishin eggs," Kid stated. "Those will continue to exist despite Asura, Arachnophobia, and the Gorgon Sisters no longer being a threat. I think it's safe to assume that for the time being the Spartoi and those students in the E.A.T. classes will be more than adequate to keep the world a peaceful place and the issue of the Death Scythes can be one we can work on solving as we go along. But as I said before, it's going to be a hard road ahead of us and that is why I have asked you all here. If you are interested, I would like the members of Spartoi to become part of the new faculty of Shibusen."

Everyones' faces perked up at the proposal.

"You mean, like…a teacher?" Black Star questioned, a show of disbelief on his face.

"Essentially," Kid explained. "I've been spending a lot of time lately debating how I want the Academy to function in the years to come, and the conclusion that I have decided on is I would like to offer each of you a position that can benefit us in the long run. For instance, I would like it very much if Maka and Ox would eventually become the new instructors of the intermediate E.A.T. classes in Class Crescent Moon. Their understanding and display of advanced knowledge and techniques would suit them best for this role. Along with that, I see Tsubaki and Soul doing exceptionally well teaching the beginner N.O.T. students in Class Rising Sun. Tsubaki is very accepting and understanding for those that may struggle in the initial processes, and Soul would hopefully make an exceptional role model for the younger students as a Death Scythe."

"What do you mean 'hopefully'?" Soul replied, cocking his brow as he sprawled out in his chair. "Cool guys like to help little kids out."

But nobody seemed to respond to his comment, lost in the prospect of actually becoming a teacher at Shibusen. For Maka, it was almost a dream come true. Although she knew it would be a lot of hard work on top of her duties as a Meister, she really couldn't think of any other way that she would love as much to be able to give back to the institution that had given her so much. She would essentially be on equal terms with Professor Stein and Miss Marie, although still far behind them in experience.

Meanwhile, Tsubaki seemed equally stunned, but for a different reason. Her goal in life since joining Shibusen had been to become a Death Scythe with Black Star's help. Without a way to do that now, it had been a bitter pill to swallow. But now there was a chance to where she could do some good other than just being a Weapon. It had never occurred to her that she could be a teacher, as her grades were always just average, but the more she thought about it, the more the idea began to grow on her. It would be fun to be able to work with the novices, she thought, and Kid was right about her accepting nature. It would be a good fit for her, she hoped. She had never really worked side by side with Soul outside of their battle group, but the opportunity to pass on their knowledge just seemed too tempting to pass up.

"Two months isn't a whole lot of time to prepare," she observed meekly. "And none of us have ever taught before. Are you sure this is a good idea, Kid?"

Recognizing her concern at the blindsided offer, the young man did his best to put their minds at ease.

"I'm certain that you would all do fine," he reassured. "Naturally, I wouldn't just throw you to the sharks so quickly. For the time being you'll be more of 'teaching assistants' than actual professors, and when you feel you are comfortable taking full control then the reigns will be passed along."

"I suppose that could work," she replied.

"So what do you have planned for me?" Black Star asked, his eagerness to know getting the better of him as he leaned forward in his seat.

"I have a new concept that I would like for you to work on with Sid, Harvar, and Kilik," Kid explained, watching as Black Star winced slightly at the mention of the zombie who always seemed to be on his case in his younger days. "A revised combat program for the Academy is in desperate need at the moment. After our battles with Medusa, Arachnophobia, and Asura, it has occurred to me that basic martial arts training and mostly self-taught Weapon and Meister pairs aren't really going to cut it anymore. If we want to advance as a program against future threats, it's up to us to work more individually with the Weapons and Meisters, making sure that they are given the proper attention to their techniques and their potential nurtured. No more sending fresh students into missions and hoping they come back alive. I want them to have an idea of their own abilities before they engage in kishin hunting."

"Sounds like my kind of gig," the assassin grinned, obviously pleased by the proposition. "I'll be sure to give the fresh meats plenty of 'nurturing'."

"I would expect nothing less from you, Black Star," Kid remarked.

"What about the rest of Spartoi?" Maka questioned, noticing the rest of the group's absence from the important discussion at hand. "Have you talked to them about this yet?"

"Ox, Harvar, Kilik, Fire, and Thunder are all out on missions right now. And Kim and Jacqueline are bringing me up to speed on the diplomacy with the witches. I will talk to them about it later and I hope they will all be on board. But right now these are all just proposals. I certainly don't want to force you to do anything you don't want to. As Lord Death, it is my duty to do what is best for the Academy and the world, but because you are my friends the last thing I want to do is put any of you in a position that you are uncomfortable with."

"Well, I can't speak for anyone else, but I'm all for it," Black Star confirmed with a wide grin that could only spell trouble for his future prospects. "And Tsubaki would make a great teacher."

The Demon Shadow Arm blushed lightly at the compliment, unable to form a proper response of thanks by the humbling remark.

"Looks like we're in as well," Soul stated, getting a confirming nod from Maka, her expression overflowing with joy and confidence.

"But what about us?" Liz interjected. "You never mentioned what Patty and me are going to be doing now. What are we supposed to do now that we aren't your Weapons anymore?"

It had been a painfully difficult subject to come to terms with for the three of them. Kid had more or less saved the former Brooklyn Devils from becoming kishins themselves, taking them off the streets and giving them a true home. And the bonds they had formed through their adventures and mishaps only seemed to strengthen them that much more. Now that the Thompson Sisters weren't Death Scythes, they couldn't be of any use to the one they admired and respected most in the world. But unbeknownst to them, Kid had figured a way to repay them in kind.

"You two can be whatever you want," he replied happily. "Any position in the school you think you would enjoy and I will make accommodations for it."

It was an open ended answer that was sure to come back to bite him in the butt and he knew it, but it was the least he could do for the two women who had stuck by him and his neurotic obsession with symmetry for the last few years. They were the ones who pulled him out of his funks on the days when the whole world seemed unbalanced, the ones who fought by his side when the world plunged into madness, the ones who comforted him most at the loss of his father, but most importantly they were the first true friends he ever really had. By not making them Death Scythes he had failed them, but by giving them their pick of anything their hearts' desired he hoped he could at least partially atone for it.

The two sisters looked from one another to Kid with equal expressions of disbelief and gratitude.

"I know what I want to be, Sis," Patty stated with a small smile.

"What's that?" her older sibling replied with intrigue.

Standing upon her chair dramatically, the youngster pointed her finger up in the air for all to witness.

"I want to be Death!" she proclaimed.

From his spot below the carefree weapon, Kid let out muffled groan that gave way to a happy sigh of amusement at her declaration.

Indeed, it seemed his decision had already come back and bit him.

* * *

**Welcome readers,**

**I have been planning this Soul Eater fanfic in my head for quite a while now and I'm very excited to begin presenting it to you. My intention for it is as a sequel/ post-manga fic that will help tie off some of the minor and major plot holes that were left open at the end of the series. It will contain a mixture of the original gang and my OCs, however, I hope to keep this fic more focused on my created characters and their adventures. Most of the original cast will remain essential to the grand overall plot in some shape, way, or form, so you will get to see them quite a bit alongside the new OCs. **

**I do wish to discuss this chapter (really a prelude to the new story) in a bit of depth before I introduce the first of my OCs. First off, it is intended as a continuation from the end of the manga, but it'll have elements of the anime thrown in. As much as I enjoyed both the manga and anime, the endings to both of them seemed to be more or less cop outs that left me feeling unfulfilled. As this chapter explained, my main issue with the ending of the manga stemmed from the gigantic hole in the plot that would essentially leave Shibusen in a paradoxical state of existence. Maybe I'm just being nit-picky that nobody has caught this error, but this was a big concern for me if they ever decided to do a sequel (On that note, Soul Eater NOT! does not exist to me. It's not Soul Eater and never will be. However, I recognize the class itself for the sake of the story.) Thus, I have begun writing this fanfic as a way to slowly but surely fill in this gap in a way that appeals to the dedicated fans and makes sense (as much sense as the Soul Eater universe has anyways).**

**So sit back, hold tight, and enjoy the ride. I hope to make this a fic that you won't soon forget. **

**Also, for those of you who are interested, the unofficial OP theme for Soul Eater: Karma and Reaction is "A Favor House Atlantic" by Coheed &amp; Cambria. **

**I own nothing except for this original plotline and my original characters. **

**Keyworks Kid**


	2. Journey of a Windswept Lotus

Chapter 2: Journey of a Windswept Lotus: Easy Come, Easy Go?

Resonating softly off the ornately decorated walls of the monastery, the gentle clapping of wooden sandals could be heard as a robed figure made his way throughout the complex, moving past ancient golden statues and silken tapestries that lingered of sweetened incense. Moving out from the archaic building down a long series of stone steps, the elderly monk descended the winding path that snaked down the rocky mountainside, his steps unrushed and precise in his age. He reminisced briefly how he used to run gaily with the wind under his feet up and down the same pathway in his youth, chasing after his brothers as they snuck away from their studies, much to the displeasure of the lamas. The discipline they had received as consequence had been harsh, but only out of love and empathy. Now it seemed timed had stripped him of that abundant energy, but had thankfully left him with his wits. It was in its own way a blessing, as it allowed him time to contemplate on his meditations as he walked along.

At a point near the base of the small mountain, the lama diverged from the rocky trail and made his way through the waist-high straw that swayed in the gentle breeze as livestock from the local village grazed freely in the fields nearby. Several hundred meters later he came to a single looming tree that cast its shadow upon a trickling crystal stream of chilled, untainted water. Walking gently toward the ancient spirit, he found the person of interest he had been searching for beneath the canopy of vibrant peach blossoms; their pale hues of purple and pink creating a wonderfully picturesque scene against the snow covered peaks in the distance. With all the silence of a stalking deer, he crept up on the young boy who sat quietly beneath the shade, not wishing to disturb his moment of introspection, but at the same time believing that now would be a good time as any to discuss what was on the forefront of his mind.

However, it seemed as though the boy had already anticipated his arrival, unfurling himself from his meditative posture and standing upright to meet his teacher with a low, humble bow.

"Good afternoon, Bhante," the śrāmanera greeted evenly, his tone sparkling with a hint of cheerfulness. From appearances alone there were very little differences in the two monks save for their age and minor variations in their garb; the elder wearing the traditional orange and red robes of the monastery while his student was clad in all orange. Both of their scalps were devoid of hair, as was customary, although one was due to consistent shaving and the other was due to age.

"Good afternoon to you as well, Shuvo," the elder monk replied with a light-hearted smile, returning the gesture and allowing the boy to return to his full height. "I apologize if I interrupted you during your meditations."

"Not at all, Bhante," the youngster replied, settling himself back down amongst the short grass beside the stream. "I could tell that you were coming."

"Ah," the lama hummed in feint surprise, seating himself next to his student. "I see that your Soul Perception is becoming quite strong. How far away were you able to sense me?"

"Only a quarter ways up the path, Bhante," Shuvo replied somewhat reluctantly, as though he were ashamed of the limits of his ability.

Looking back behind him, the lama gazed upwards through rectangular glasses towards the temple perched at the top of the rising earth, mentally estimating just how far a quarter of the ways up was. If he had to take a guess, he would have said that from where they were would have been somewhere a little under half a kilometer, give or take. For a boy of only thirteen, such a distance of perception was unprecedented as far as he knew.

"That is a wonderful gift to have," he stated with a smile, showing neither astonishment at the feat nor praise that could unintentionally fill the boy with ego. "Very few people in this world are able to feel the soul of another living creature. I was not blessed with such ability at birth and had to spend many years in deep cognition before I was able to do so. So you should remember, Shuvo, to always be grateful that you have been given such a divine gift."

"I will, Bhante," Shuvo promised with a knowing smile. "But I hope to one day have a soul as strong as yours. I bet you can see everyone's souls back at the temple from here."

"You give me too much credit, Shuvo," the monk chuckled. "But life is not a competition on who has the strongest soul. Remember that even the tiniest butterfly can stir a typhoon. What matters is how we use our souls in our search of wisdom and enlightenment. We are all capable of these truths, from the saplings to the mighty bodhi. What is our basic mantra, young one?"

"The pathway to enlightenment comes through the alleviation of sufferings physical, mental, and intemporal," the boy recited confidently verbatim, as he was normally asked to do numerous times a day. "A balanced soul dwells within a balanced mind and balanced flesh."

"Excellent," came the teacher's small amount of praise. "But words become void of their meaning if they are not upheld by our actions. Now, Shuvo, how will you go about in your own search for enlightenment? Have you contemplated what sort of path you will take for yourself yet?"

Sitting easily in a cross-legged posture, the young monk watched the glistening stream that ran before him, taking a few precious moments to contemplate his answer. There was a slight shaking of unease in his soul that the older man picked up on, but refrained from saying anything.

"I have thought about it deeply, Bhante," Shuvo began, his eyes unwavering from the flowing water as he spoke. "I love the temple and my brothers, but I believe that my path lies beyond it. I wish to live the mantra through my actions, and not just for myself, but for others."

Trailing off, he left his thoughts unfinished, seeming to know that nothing more really needed to be said. His teacher was all but aware of his intentions, as they had discussed it as an option when they first found out about his other ability.

"I believe that is a very wise and mature decision for you, young one," the elder stated with an approving nod. "There is much more to the world than the temple and much more you can learn than I can teach you. If Shibusen is calling to you, then I will make the arrangements."

It took all the restraint that he could muster for the śrāmaṇera not to cheer wildly at the opportunity. Remaining composed, only the widening of his smile showed any indicator of his true emotions.

"Thank you, Bhante," the boy said gratefully, rising up in another bow. "Thank you."

Pulling himself upright against the trunk of the tree to return the gesture once again, the elder bowed politely before motioning for Shuvo to take a seat. Remaining braced against the tree, he reached upwards and touched a low hanging branch that comprised the pastel canopy.

"It is your decision, Shuvo, not mine," he stated with an even, lecturing tone. "Your path is yours to follow, and it is against my duty to dictate it for you. But I see a bright future for you as you make that journey. I have had the opportunity to meet and work with members of Shibusen in the past. Lord Death was always very kind to us despite us not being members of the academy, and we had many lively discussions over the years. I was most sad to hear of his passing and I still consider him a good friend. As for his successor, I have heard nothing but good things about the new Lord Death. If he is anything like his father, he will fight diligently to keep evil at bay."

"I am very anxious to get to meet Lord Death," Shuvo remarked, his thoughts running rampant as he tried his best to keep a hold on his composure. "But what is Shibusen like, Bhante? Are there kids my age? What were they like? And the teachers?!"

His excitement seemed to be running away from him as he began to rattle off the questions, much to the amusement of his teacher. With a wave of the hand, the elder silenced his protégé.

"Many of the students at Shibusen seemed to be right around your age," he confirmed. "It was many years ago, but I believe it is much the same now as back then. There was an even mix of boys and girls, some as young as small children and some into young adulthood. As for the teachers, they were all very knowledgeable people with very strong souls. The only thing I can tell you from observing Shibusen was that they were very diverse, coming from all sorts of backgrounds. It would be a grand task to categorize them under a single label and I am sure they have only grown more diverse over the years. But that is a good thing, as it brings with it a plethora of different experiences. They all fight in the name of Lord Death for various reasons, but they all achieve a common goal. And hopefully this broad spectrum will allow you to find your balance when you begin searching for a partner of your very own."

"I hope there is another monk at Shibusen that I could become partners with," Shuvo said, his heart becoming giddy with anticipation.

"Oh?" the elder hummed in curiosity. "But how would that be of advantage for the both of you?"

"Why is that a bad thing, Bhante?" the boy questioned. "Having a brother as a partner means we would get along, right?"

His mentor only smiled that soft smile that comes with the wisdom brought about by old age and personal experience.

"Which of the two do you believe is wiser, Shuvo; the king who keeps a court of those that agree with him or the king who keeps a court of those that disagree with him?"

A quizzical expression spread over the young monk's face, contemplating the nature of the question for a few moments before answering.

"The king with those who… agree with him?" he answered hesitantly, slightly unsure of his own conclusion.

"Because…?" the elder questioned, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, but merely wanting to see the logic behind the answer.

"Because…they would be working toward a common goal," Shuvo explained, trying to rationalize his decision. "If a king had only people who disagree with him, then nothing would get done. They would just argue. But if he had people who agreed with him then things would get done."

"But would they get done because they all agree on a common vision, or because they merely wish to hold favor with the king? Would not a wise king be the one who is shown his flaws and learns from them rather than one who is shown his glory and learns nothing?"

The explanation appeared to stump the śrāmaṇera, who seemed to be wracking his brain to comprehend the simple, yet powerful analogy. Seeing this, the elder decided to lend him a few more words of wisdom.

"When you go to Shibusen to seek out a partner, keep this in mind," the elder clarified. "Working with someone like yourself may seem beneficial at first glance, but all you will have then are two of the same mind. It would be like having two suns and no moon."

"But there is no moon anymore," Shuvo stated bluntly.

Indeed, it was quite true that the once prominent, albeit somewhat disturbing, moon no longer shined down upon them, now just a blackened void that hindered the light of the stars.

"I know, but let us assume it is still there," the teacher continued. "There will be no balance if all you find is someone who copies your thoughts and actions; only a struggle to see which of the two suns shines brightest. Therefore, I implore you to seek out your moon, Shuvo. They will be your compliment along your journey and the one who will teach you far more than you will ever know simply by having a mirror beside you. Will you keep this in mind for your own benefit?"

"I will, Bhante," Shuvo agreed.

He didn't know exactly what type of person he would be looking for when he arrived in America and entered Lord Death's city, but as with all things he had learned during his youth in the monastery, it was best to exercise patience and meditate over such matters. He supposed he would find out when he got there what his moon would be like.

"Shuvo," the lama addressed, his tone perking up as he shifted from the wise lecturer to the compassionate mentor. "I want you to remember some things of importance as you begin your life away from here. Firstly, life beyond these mountains is far, far different than anything you have encountered before. It is a secular world composed of materialistic things that cloud a man's mind and weaken his soul. It is certainly not all bad, but you should be wary of those things that are vices and remember to meditate daily over the Precepts. Along with this, remember to walk with a humble heart and an open mind. Do not be quick to judge the life of another. Second, remember to be gentle in your words and decisive in your actions."

"And lastly," he concluded with a wide smile. "Remember to write. You know I will want to know how you are doing with your new life. I am looking forward to hearing about how Shibusen has changed and how you will be doing in your studies. Those are my five points of wisdom for you; remember to meditate, walk humbly, do not judge, be gentle and decisive, and write when you can. Can you promise me these things, young one?"

"I promise, Bhante," the boy answered quickly, a heartfelt elation spreading through him at the unsaid blessing by his admired teacher. "I'll be sure to remember everything."

"I know you will," the lama confirmed with a nod, beginning to move away from the canopy. "Now, I believe that your brothers are out playing football somewhere with the villagers. You should go join them instead of wasting your youth talking to an old goat like myself."

With that, it was all the invitation the young monk needed before rising quickly in a final gracious bow.

"Thank you, Bhante," he said before taking off full sprint through the hillside down to the little village below, leaving his elder to chuckle slightly at the sight.

"That one is going to go far. He just does not know it yet."

* * *

In the crowded, bustling streets of the night, it didn't take a genius to realize that every set of eyes that passed by her had done a double take before acting as though they hadn't seen anything. Some would say words in a foreign tongue she didn't understand, while others coughed under their breath to hide their disapproving slanders. But she didn't care. They were in Abu Dhabi, a wonderfully beautiful city that mixed its myriad of ornate mosques right in with its neon lights and towering glass skyscrapers. It was a cultural intersection that fascinated her with both its ancient customs and its modern, almost futuristic, sprawl.

"Victoria, people are staring," a sing-song voice came from the young, dark-skinned woman beside her, her accent tinted with a hint of the Kings. She was a youthful South African girl, fourteen years of age just like her partner, although more moderately attired for the occasion. A simple set of beige capris with a lime green blouse covered her while a pair of black leather knee-high sandals adorned her feet and blackened arm wrappings rose from her wrists to her elbows. Her hair was a deep jet black tied into loose dreadlocks that ran down her back while the two pigtails on either side of her head curved aggressively downwards in a tapered U-shape.

"Wouldn't it be better if you wore something that wasn't quite so…skimpy?" she imposed. "At least not in a country where we can get in big trouble for it?"

The young teen in question carried on through the streets without a care in the world, making an approaching passerby shake his head in objection to the form fitting black spandex shirt that was tucked into mid-thigh length desert camouflage shorts. An olive green combat belt clung loosely around her waist, seeming to hold nothing up, while a pair of darkened welder's goggles dangled from around her neck, bouncing freely against her chest as she walked.

"We're here to catch a kishin egg, Kiki," the girl answered frankly, her accent nearly identical to that of the girl to her right. "And I can't fight it in a robe and hijab. I like to be maneuverable and if these people want that evil soul gone then they'll just have to get over it."

It really wouldn't be too much to ask to put on just a little bit more covering, her partner Kiana Makali grumbled mentally, but then again that was her Meister for her. Victoria was one who preferred functionality over designer brands, although Kiana had tried getting the tomboyish Aussie to try on some clothes that were a little more feminine in the past. She certainly did have the looks for it; her lean surfer body bronzed lightly from years in the sun and her ruby red eyes that contrasted her choppy, shortly cut strawberry blonde hair.

"Besides, for as much fun as this city is these knockers are way too uptight," the Meister added as they closed in on the area of suspicion. "They need to learn a little 'easy come, easy go'."

"Well we can relax once we get this arse taken care of," Kiana remarked, her voice growing serious as they came up to the towering oval shaped stadium that watched over the meticulously cared for raceway.

Although the DWMA was still technically out of session for another two months as Lord Death worked on reforming the Academy for the new school year, Victoria and Kiana had taken it upon themselves to continue their duties and capture as many kishin eggs as they could in the meantime. Their newest mission came in the form of an evil human that was devouring the innocent souls of racecar drivers on the Formula One circuit. For some reason or another it only appeared to have an affinity for the drivers and not civilians; a curious case as normally evil souls were rather indiscriminate with their victims. A consistent pattern had been quickly discovered that the potential kishin was attacking before major races, taking one or two souls at a time. By the time the fifth racer and his car had gone missing, the Meister and Weapon duo were already on their way to Abu Dhabi where the next race was scheduled to happen. With the reputation of the DWMA on the line they had promised to exterminate the wicked soul before anyone else was hurt. If they failed before the scheduled date, then not only would all the races be cancelled until further notice, but the kishin egg would still be on the loose.

The barricaded raceway that comprised the circuit was eerily empty at the moment with the stadium lights glowing in all their splendor against the night, but not a soul was around. It was as if there was a magical barrier that separated the hustle and bustle of the city behind them from the solitude of the circuit. Not a single guard or crewman was present, but in all honestly who could blame them with a madman on the loose?

Making their way to the entrance gates, they circled the stadium before coming up to the fenced off staging area, easily shimmying over the barbed wire before investigating the numerous trailers that housed the racecars and their crew's equipment. Rounding a corner down the rows of trucks, that's when they first heard the prominent clanking of metal and the commotion of an airwrench. Remaining on their toes, the two girls could see a faint sliver of light piercing through an opening at the back of one of the trailers, the distinct number and name of the driver painted all over the aluminum siding. But before either of them were able to peer inside the container, the thunderous roar of starting engines and the squealing of tires blazed forth as the massive door at the back swung forcefully open and a long blackened shadow shot out, spewing fire and clouds of ash in its wake. Nearly running the Meister and Weapon over, the two girls barely had a split second to roll out of the way before they were turned into roadkill.

"I think we found him," Victoria smiled contently as she swept herself off nonchalantly.

Getting their first good look at the kishin egg before them, the girls could see the wicked soul still dressed in his fireproof suit and helmet, illuminated by the towering flames that came from the rumbling exhausts like dragon's fire. His suit was in tatters and half of his blackened visor was missing, revealing one glowing red eye that stared back at them maliciously. Sitting behind the wheel of what appeared to be more of a demonic rat rod dragster than a Formula One car, the driver put the slender vehicle up on two wheels as he made a sharp turn to face them, revving the throttle as he did so.

"Looks like it's go time, Kiki," the Aussie stated confidently as she watched her partner jump into the air in a flash of green light.

Dividing into two, the young Weapon's human form shifted, turning into shining steel U-shaped blades the same angles as her pigtails. Landing easily in the palms of her Meister's awaiting hands, she could feel Victoria squeeze her black grips tightly as their souls connected.

"Robert Cummings, A.K.A. Dragula," the Meister announced easily, barely audible over the thundering engines. "Listen here and listen good, mate. My name's Victoria Gratzner; Demon Ulaks Meister of the DWMA. Your soul has become corrupt, so we're here to claim it in the name of Lord Death. Any objections?"

The squealing of rubber against the pavement was all the answer she received, watching as the monster took off in a ball of flame after her with the intention of turning the two into nothing more than red stains on the concrete.

Ducking and rolling out of the way of the incoming rocket, the Meister watched as Dragula shot past her and turned the corner down the next lane of trucks.

"Gonna have to be faster than that, mate," Victoria mocked, seeing the trail of flames leaving her field of sight. Breaking down the fence, the rat rod barreled through the barricade and onto the circuit.

"_Ag, Vicky, he's getting away!" _Kiana shouted from her Weapon form.

"Oh, bugger me," the Meister groaned in displeasure.

Seeing that the kishin egg did indeed seem to be making his escape, the Meister took off running through the staging area to try to cut him off.

"_Looks like he left a trail for us though,"_ her partner stated, noticing the obvious flaming path where the tires had traveled.

Running at top speed with her saber blades poised behind her, Victoria cut through a side street before arriving back in the middle of the circuit, following the traces of fire left behind. But despite this, it appeared their man was long gone. The flames could easily be seen winding down the twists and turns of the pavement, outlining the track in a demonic glow. In that machine of his, Dragula was far faster than anything on two legs. Realizing that she was far outmatched in terms of speed, Victoria slowed down to a halt, a light sweat dripping down her face from the brief chase.

"_Ag!" _Kiana shouted, her naked body appearing within her bladed form. _"I can't believe that bastard got away!"_

"Eh, we'll get 'em next time," Victoria shrugged, wiping her brow with her forearm.

"_There won't be a bladdy next time!" _her partner countered angrily. _"Dragula's gone and now we're gonna have to tell Lord Death we failed! I can't understand how you're freakin' alright with this, dof!"_

"Kiki, be quiet," her Meister shushed her.

"_Don't you tell me to be blaady quiet you-!"_

But before the ulak could finish her sentence, the resounding echoes of a churning engine caught her ear. Turning around within the darkened expanse of her Weapon form, the girl was shocked to see Dragula hadn't escaped, but had completed an entire lap of the raceway in what was assuredly a record time.

"_You've got to be kidding me," _she remarked flatly in disbelief.

"There won't be a bloody next time," Victoria sang in a mocking tone, smiling giddily as she twirled the twin blades skillfully in her hands. Positioning herself in a boxing stance with razor edges at the ready, she could barely make out the face of the maniacal driver as he sped towards them.

"_I freakin' hate that 'easy come, easy go' attitude of yours sometimes," _Kiana grumbled. _"Quit screwin' around and let's get this guy's soul."_

"Alright, alright," her Meister sighed, crouching low in front of the incoming missile, undeterred as Dragula raced straight towards them. "I know how much you hate to lose."

Watching Dragula speed ever closer to them, Victoria held her ground as she mentally timed her maneuvers just right. There were a few different ways she could go about disposing of the kishin egg, some of which were more tedious than others. However, she was feeling frisky tonight and ultimately decided she would have a little fun first. Kiana would most likely not be happy by the prospect, but she would deal with the consequences afterwards.

"Get ready for the best ride of your life, Kiki!" the Meister shouted over the engines.

"_Say what?! Didn't I just say not to screw around?!" _the Weapon protested.

"Too late!" Victoria grinned, clenching the silver blades tight as she took off in a fantastic leap. Watching as the rat rod traveled just below her, the Aussie fell through the engine's wall of flames and landed ungracefully on the roof of the rusted vehicle. Falling into a roll, she barely had enough time to pierce Kiana's razor edges through the top of the roof before ending up with a serious case of road rash. Now hanging on for dear life, her body swayed violently as Dragula swerved the car side to side in an attempt to throw the two hijackers off.

"You're not…getting…rid of me…that easy!" she grunted through the whipping wind and the scorching heat of the exhaust that lapped at her skin.

With tedious movements, she managed to free Kiana's right blade from the metal roof and plunge it forward, repeating the motion with her left as she forced her way further up towards the driver's seat. Beginning to lose strength in her hands as she maintained her grip, she pierced the corner and made a large semi-circular slash, tearing through the aluminum with ease. Following through with another motion, Victoria watched as the oval shaped piece of roof came loose and went careening behind them. Looking down into the hole she had created, her face was now less than an arm's length away from the corrupted soul. Locking eyes, both Meister and evil human stared momentarily into one another before the nose of the dragster shifted forcefully downwards as Dragula slammed on the brakes, threatening to throw the pair from their precarious position atop the moving vehicle.

"_Vicky, hang on!" _Kiana warned, feeling her blades cut through metal and glass with the sudden shift in momentum. Careening off the dragster along with her Meister onto the blackened pavement below, the Weapon briefly felt the searing sensation of something incredibly hot grinding against the two halves of her ulak form. Throwing sparks as she scraped against the raceway, the two girls skidded to a halt several meters directly in front of Dragula's path.

"_You freakin' chop," _Kiana groaned from her weapon state, feeling the damage done to her physical body beginning to take its toll. _"The hell were you trying to do?"_

The ominous roar of the powerful engine in front of them alerted them that they were still far from being in the clear. But as the throttle was opened wide to finish of the pair, there came the distinctive noise of metal grinding upon metal and the sputtering of the motor as is gasped to maintain life. The mechanical beast that mere moments earlier was breathing a noxious hellfire now threatened to tear itself apart as it shook violently beneath its cowling. Gasping its last dying breath as it lay bleeding, the dragster erupted in a ball of napalm, lighting up the stadium in a fiery orange glow.

Picking herself up slowly from the pavement, Victoria winced at the reddened scars laced with asphalt that now stung her exposed arms and legs. Retrieving her partner, she faced the destruction with a small grin plastered on her face.

"Oi, it worked didn't it?" she remarked, watching as a shining black substance dripped down to the tip of the saber blades, pooling onto the ground below.

Their victory was short lived as Dragula's fiery figure emerged from the wreckage, his protective suit now smoldering and alight with the lingering flames fueled by oil and high octane gasoline. His helmet was now gone, displaying his pale face and mess of long, tangled black hair to the two teens. But most prominent of all were the two grisly fangs that emerged out of his mouth, revealing the reasoning behind his name. His gaze was even, but ever-so demonic, as though deciding how he should best go about disposing of Lord Death's nuisances.

With a charred, fire-scorched hand, the kishin egg reached into his suit and produced a small orb radiating a bluish glow.

"_He's got a soul!"_Kiana warned, watching as the monster sunk a fang into the spiritual essence, sucking it dry like a juice box.

Fueled by the consumption of another victim, Dragula's form grew slightly in both height and muscle mass, his hands sprouting pointed, sharpened nails and his fangs elongating to well over a meter in length. Satisfied by the boost, the monster opened his jaws grotesquely wide, barring his rows of daggered teeth in a wild bloodlust and letting loose with a terrifying roar.

"That's cute," the Meister mocked, bringing her partner up to the ready in twin slashing positions. "But Kiana is sharper than those cheap dentures. Your soul is ours."

"_Vicky!" _the Weapon shouted, thoroughly agitated that her Meister was continuing to toy with her prey despite her previous warnings. _"I swear if you don't kill this bastard in the next minute, so help me God I will throw your blaady board in the nearest wood chipper when we get back home!"_

"You wouldn't dare!" the Aussie gasped, locking blades with the powerful monster as he came charging in, swinging his claws wildly. If there was one thing in the world she didn't joke around with, it was the well being of her most prized possession.

"_Sixty…fifty-nine…fifty-eight…fifty-seven…"_

"Ah, bugger me!" Victoria shouted, using the outer edge of the blades to parry the strikes.

Going on the offensive, the girl swung with vertical motions to stab at the creature, catching her razor edges on Dragula's flesh as he reeled back in pain before countering. Opening his jaw, the kishin egg snapped at the teen, trying to impale her on one of his conical fangs. Forcing the Meister up against the concrete barrier that formed the circuit, a quick slash of his claws aimed at decapitating the Meister was narrowly avoided.

Pressing her back against the barrier, Victoria kicked out with one of her boots, forcing the beast a short ways backwards. But before she realized her mistake, Dragula's grotesque hand wrapped around her ankle, picking her up and slinging her hard against the concrete, knocking the wind out of her with a painful grunt. Twice more he picked up the Meister, whipping her body like a ragdoll as the ground cracked with each impact. With a sickening thud, the girl crumbled to the ground, allowing the kishin egg the opportunity to go in for the kill. With jaws extended like a drooling bear trap, its fangs closed in around the Meister.

"_Vicky!"_

In a sudden flash of motion, a silver blur was seen against the orange glow of the burning wreckage entering the creature's shutting mouth. Pulling her arm out quickly before it was bitten clean off, Victoria gathered her strength and gave a defiant vertical kick from her position on the pavement, kneeing Dragula in the mandible in a swift upper cut.

Writhing in pain, the blow was enough to send the ulak she had placed piercing through the top of the kishin egg's skull, jutting out of his temple in a gruesome display. Collapsing to the ground, a quick follow through slash found the second blade embedded in the creature's throat, dealing the decisive finishing blow. In a heinous screech, Dragula erupted into a series of blackened ribbons, twisting and spiraling into nothingness before leaving behind a single red mass of tainted soul glowing in the night.

Landing with an audible clank upon the racetrack, Kiana's split soul converged back into her human form, covered head to toe in lingering saliva. Her expression was both one of great relief and mortification at her current condition, eyeing her Meister with a sharpened gleam as she slumped against the barrier as she began to rid herself of the disgusting slime.

Sinking down beside her, Victoria held the corrupted spirit in her hand, offering it to her partner in a show of good will.

"That's number… thirty-four," she huffed with labored breathing, a slight smile spreading over her face.

Taking the soul without a word, Kiana tilted her head back and swallowed the mass whole. Letting out a deep sigh of satisfaction, she closed her eyes before throwing a light punch into her Meister's shoulder.

"You are without a doubt the biggest chop I've ever met in my entire life," she grumbled contently. "If you ever pull anything like that again, I will personally murder you with my bare hands."

Letting out a chuckle, Victoria stared into the hypnotic trance of the burning dragster mere meters away, feeling the exhaustion of their ordeal quickly catching up to her.

"No promises, Kiki. No promises."

* * *

**Author's Note: I hope I didn't confuse you at all with some of the slang in their dialogue. I want both Victoria and Kiana to have their respective accents so I wrote in some phrases and slang that each country uses. If it's difficult to understand them at times, please let me know. I don't want to detract from the scenes by having you confused by the terminology. So here's a quick guide to the small amount of slang I will use for them.**

**Ag- Pronounced "ach", a general exclamation for "oh", "oh no", or "oh bloody hell"**

**Blaady- South African variant for "bloody"**

**Buggar- Derogatory word that varies with the context of the sentence. Saying "buggar" is along the lines of saying "oh crap". Calling someone a "buggar" is like calling them a bastard. And "buggar me" is along the lines of saying "f**k me"**

**Chop- idiot**

**Dof- stupid**

**Oi- Hey!**

**I apologize in advance because I'm ignorant with these phrases. I hope I am using them appropriately, but please feel free to correct me if I'm mistaken.**

**K.K.**


	3. The Peculiarly Asymmetric RRBB

Chapter 3: The Peculiarly Asymmetric RRBB: Welcome to the Dance of Death?

With a weary, but excited, elation, Shuvo looked on in awe at the towering black and red spires of a magnificently dominating structure as it came into view atop the cityscape, deducting that the building must have indeed been none other than the famed Shibusen that Bhante had spoken so highly of. Passing along the narrow cobblestone streets that wound their way ever closer to the headquarters of Lord Death himself, the charter bus that the monk found himself riding upon rattled slightly against the uneven pavement below. Rolling past the neo-gothic architecture of peoples' homes and shopping centers, Shuvo couldn't help but notice how almost everything from the advertisements to the street signs contained the distinctive pointed skull logo of Lord Death. There was no doubt about it that he had made it to the right place.

The days leading up to his arrival in Death City had certainly been one of many first for the śrāmaṇera. Keeping a small diary, he jotted down his musings and observations of his travels, noting how he had said goodbye to his brothers at the monastery before a villager took them by ox-drawn wagon through the mountain passes to a small, flat field. From there, he and Bhante boarded a questionably operable single engine plane, giving the boy his first ever flying experience. While the young teen was over the moon by the adventure, his elder seemed to breathe a sigh of relief when the rickety prop-engine touched back down to earth at a major airport.

From there, unfortunately, Shuvo had to give his goodbyes to his teacher, who in turn gave the boy a short recap of the promises he had sworn to fulfill and some reassuring words. This was to be expected from the lama, but what the śrāmaṇera didn't expect was the comforting hug that the elder embraced him in. For a brief moment the boundaries between teacher and student were broken and the elder showed much the same compassion one his own age would give to a beloved grandson. Letting go of the life he had come to know, Shuvo made his way through the bustling airport and boarded the large jet airliner that would take him half a world away to start his new life at Shibusen.

Reaching far higher into the azure sky than the dinky prop plane, the mainland was soon behind them as the expanse of the Pacific passed under them for hours upon end. During his trip, the boy was given his first taste of soda, which tickled his stomach with its bubbles, as well as his first experience with the modern marvel known as movies. He was not naïve about many of the world's technological wonders, as he was familiar with the concept of cinema from books he had read, but there were no theaters anywhere near their remote mountaintop monastery, making the event quite memorable. The film was in a language foreign to him, probably Mandarin, but nonetheless his eyes never strayed away from the animated cartoon that played on the small glass screen in front of him.

After nearly three days traveling by foot, ox, plane, taxi, and bus, the audible hissing of the air brakes being released and the opening of the sliding glass doors alerted the very jetlagged monk that he had finally arrived at his long anticipated destination.

"Welcome to Death City," the driver of the bus announced with a slight monotone. "Make sure you take all of your belongings with you as you exit."

The few patrons scattered throughout the charter reached into the overhead bins, collecting their bags and suitcases as they filed easily out the door. Picking up his one small burlap sack that contained his few earthly possessions, including his musings journal, stationary, a few small books, his razor, and a coin purse with some American money in case he needed it, Shuvo thanked the driver for his services before stepping off.

Immediately blindsided by the scorching heat of the mid-autumn day, the climate would most certainly be the first obstacle for him to overcome in Death City, he deducted. The second would be the looming series of white stone steps that stood before him, seeming to stretch towards the heavens above as they lead up to Shibusen's main entrance. Silently thanking Bhante for the minimalistic lifestyle and their daily walks up and down the mountain, the monk began his trek upwards and onwards, admiring both the grandness and exquisite craftsmanship of the structure. It was most assuredly a bold testament worthy of carrying the name of Lord Death.

Halfway up the staircase, he took a brief moment to turn around and marvel at the outlying city as it basked in the bright glow of the laughing sun above. It was truly a magnificent sight to behold, and the thought that this would now be his home had only just begun to permeate as he continued his climb. Nearing the peak, he could hear the distinctive rumble of voices in the distance, urging him to continue onwards until at last his slightly aching calves hit flat ground. Panting lightly from the journey and the heat, Shuvo lifted his head up from the ground to see the preparations for a grand ceremony had been laid out about the entrance plaza. A large banner in multiple languages, including Tibetan, hung above a raised stage welcoming the students. Upon the platform stood a podium with the Lord Death skull painted decoratively, followed by numerous chairs arranged on both sides. Aligned in front of the stage were more rows of chairs, evenly separated down the middle by a red carpet aisle.

The clamoring of voices he had heard came from the myriad of boys and girls of various ages and ethnicities conversing merrily as they were reacquainted with old friends or were in the process of making new ones. It was in itself a breath of relief for the monk, as he wasn't really sure what to expect when he arrived. However, he was glad to see that it was just as Bhante had described it. Seeing a small table off to the side indicating that he was to sign in, he approached the two young women manning the station, each of whom was identically attired in matching red sweater blouses and white felt cowboy hats.

"Good afternoon, ladies," he greeted with a bow. "I am here for my registration. Am I in the appropriate place?"

Eyeing the bald, barefoot boy before them quizzically, the women turned their attention back to their task before they were caught staring too long.

"Yeah…," the apparently older of the two replied, caught off guard by the formal gesture as she sifted through a stack of files before her. "This is the right pla…,"

"Why are you wearing your bed sheets?!" the younger of the women interrupted with an innocent intrigue. "Did you forget how to get dressed?! You must have because you left your shoes at home, too!"

"Patty!" came an embarrassed cry as the brunette clamped her hand over the blonde's mouth, blushing furiously.

"I'm really, really sorry about that," she apologized sincerely. "She didn't mean anything by it. She does this with everyone."

Much to their surprise, the orange-clad boy didn't seem offended by the statement, but rather let out a small laugh and smiled.

"It is alright, I am not upset," he assured, sensing that the girl really didn't mean for her words to be hurtful in any way. "To answer your questions, Miss, these are the traditional robes of my temple, and I do not own any footwear. My name is Shuvo Bhakta, and I am pleased to meet you both."

Bending low once more in a polite bow, Shuvo could see that the older girl still seemed slightly taken aback by his actions, while the younger copied his motions repeatedly, laughing as she did so.

"Well then, welcome to the DWMA, Shuvo," the brunette carried on, her expression far more neutral than the girl beside her. Running her fingers through the folders as she searched for his file, she questioned if he was registering as a Meister or as a Weapon.

"A Weapon," the boy replied.

"Alright then, well here's everything you should need to get started," she informed, handing him a manila folder with his name printed below the distinctive Lord Death emblem, along with a tag that indicated him as a Weapon. "As a first year you'll be with the other N.O.T. students over there on the left side. Lord Death is about to start, so you might want to hurry up and find a seat."

Looking over to the half of the aisle that contained the first year students, Shuvo could see that there weren't very many chairs available to him, so he figured it best to heed the woman's advice.

"Thank you very much, ladies," he smiled, gesturing once more before retrieving his bag and taking off in search for a vacancy. "I hope that we will cross paths again very soon."

"I'm sure we will," the brunette replied neutrally with a half-cocked brow.

"See ya around Bed Sheets!" the youngster waved from behind him.

Watching as the curious teen took his leave, the older of the two collected the remaining files of those who hadn't arrived on time and stood up from her chair.

"C'mon Patty," she sighed. "We better get going. You know how Kid gets with these speeches being punctual and all."

"Okey dokey, Sis!"

* * *

Finding an empty seat towards the back of the congregation, Shuvo observed his fellow Weapons and Meisters with a heightened inquiry, trying to get a slight idea of the kinds of people he was about to surround himself with. Simultaneously, he kept a close eye out for anyone that could be a quality potential Meister, but it was difficult for him to tell from appearances alone. He contemplated momentarily on using his Soul Perception to feel out the stronger candidates, but ultimately decided against it, as it was not only an invasion of their privacy, but it appeared that the ceremony was beginning to commence. Several men and women, some significantly older and some only a few years his senior began to take the stage and seat themselves. He spotted instantly the two women from before taking their positions directly behind the podium, leaving an empty space between them. As for the rest of them, they were a particularly motley bunch, and two of them in particular made him quite uneasy, but he remembered that one of Bhante's promises was to not judge too quickly. Thus he forced the predeterminations to the back of his mind. But even still, it was hard not to be a little intimidated and curious about the man with a screw jutting out of his head and the large blue beast beside him.

With a silent awe and attention, he noticed the crowd quiet down immediately at the arrival of a lanky, blackened figure with white striped hair who seemed only slightly older than the majority of the crowd, possibly fifteen or sixteen. Donned in a pressed black suit with white-striped trim and Death Skull bolo tie, he strode with a sense of both purposefulness and confidence as his flowing black cloak brushed the ground behind him as he took the podium. Rolling out a single sheet of paper, he gazed out amongst the Weapons and Meisters before him with golden eyes, clearing his throat momentarily before beginning.

"Eight centuries ago, my Father created this academy with a single intention; to maintain balance throughout the world through the teaching and creation of capable Meisters and Weapons so that evil may never rise in the form of kishin again. And today, I am both saddened and happy to say that through the strength of us all, the world is now in a better state. We lost many beloved friends throughout the last year, and we continue to weep for them. Our scars, both physical and mental, still linger from our battles and will continue to do so until the days we are no more. They are the testaments to our character as men and women of this grand institution."

"But like mighty phoenixes, we have risen from our ashes," he stated with a voice that was both calm, yet bolstering. "In our darkest hours we were crushed in both body and spirit, but now we are born anew. And so I am done speaking of melancholy things, for now I stand before the Meisters and Weapons that will bring us into a new age of peace. All of you, with your unrelenting courage, have gladly answered your beck and call to serve a most noble of causes. And for that, I thank you. So without further adieu, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Lord Death, and it is with great pride that I welcome you to a new year at the Death Weapon Meister Academy."

The applause that followed Lord Death's speech was thunderous in its response, shaking the ground beneath Shuvo's feet as the students whooped and whistled in approval. Although he was still oblivious to the true nature of the shinigami, his first encounter gave the monk the impression of someone who was both very empathic to the well beings of others and someone who cared deeply for justice and morality. He didn't need to use his Soul Perception to see that the title of Lord Death had befallen a most worthy of choices.

Allowing the crowd to settle themselves down, Lord Death pressed on, now done with the prepared portion of his speech.

"For those of you who are returning, you may notice some familiar faces behind me," he continued, his tone now joyfully neutral. "And for those of you who are new, I'm certain you will become acquainted with them very quickly. There have been quite a significant number of changes happening behind the scenes and these people have been dedicating much of their free time so that you may be adequately prepared for the year to come. If you would, please give them a round of applause for their tireless efforts."

A second, slightly less hearty, ovation followed suit at Lord Death's suggestion. Within the many clapping hands, Shuvo noticed a few of the young girls on the other side of the aisle shout words of swooning affection for someone named Soul. Who that person was exactly, he didn't know, but was certain he would find out in due time.

Once more, Lord Death allowed the crowd to settle themselves before continuing on.

"Now, before we begin the new year, there have been a few changes that I wish for you all to be very aware of," he stated, his voice growing serious. "These changes will most likely be met with some protest. However, I ask that each of us keep an open mind as I explain them to you. First and foremost, the most significant shift in DWMA policies lies in our newfound alliance with the Witches' Coven. We as a faculty have unanimously agreed that this alliance is beneficial towards our vision of a peaceful world. However, this also means that we as an academy will no longer be pursuing witches' souls. As a result, Death Scythes can no longer be formed. So for all the Weapons, if your one and only intention is to become a Death Scythe, this is no longer an option."

An uproar of confusion and objection filled the plaza, cultivated by Lord Death's proclamation. Many of the older students vocalized their disappointment and anger, debating what they were supposed to do now that their dreams were seemingly crushed in a heartbeat. A select few even threw out hateful words against the witches.

It was the arrival of the blue-skinned man that put a quick and thorough end to their clamoring. Standing up from his chair, he stood menacingly on the edge of the stage, towering over his audience.

"Enough!" he barked, watching as the students' faces rapidly froze in fright. "As hard as it is to accept, Lord Death has done this so that you kids can have a better future. Yes, there's still some bad blood between us and the witches, but it's the decision that's been made. So suck it up and deal with the fact that witches are now our allies. If any of you so much as thinks of hurting a witch now, consider that a direct insult to Lord Death himself. And I've never allowed anyone to insult Lord Death and get away with it. That's not the kind of man I was. If you can't handle this, then we don't need you as a student."

Satisfied that his message had sufficiently permeated, he gave Lord Death an acknowledging nod before returning to his seat with crossed arms.

"Thank you, Sid," the shinigami stated gratefully with a slight hint of bewilderment at his actions before regaining his train of thought. "As I was saying, with this in mind we are working diligently on a way to remedy the problem and find another way in which we may create Death Scythes. In the meantime, we will be making some slight changes to the criteria for both Weapon and Meister advancement. From this point forward, a total of twenty-five souls must be collected for N.O.T. students to reach promotion to the rank of One Star and be considered for advancement into the E.A.T. course the following semester. However, N.O.T. teams will not be permitted to accept missions until they are first cleared by their professor. This is not intended to slow your advancement, but rather to ensure that you are adequately acclimated to working with your partner before you begin hunting kishin eggs. As for those of you who are already in the E.A.T. course, the standard has now been raised from ninety-nine souls and one witch's soul to one hundred and twenty-five souls for promotion to the rank of Two Stars. Those of you who reach the rank of Two Stars will be given constant assessment and evaluation as you continue to strive for the Three Star level. Three Stars will ultimately be selected by a board consisting of myself and other Three Star faculty."

A resounding groan of disapproval came forth from the E.A.T. class at the news. Not only would the Weapons not be able to become Death Scythes, but now they would have to do almost another semester's worth of work to collect the extra kishin eggs they needed to become Two Stars.

"I understand that these changes will be disagreeable to most of you," Lord Death replied. "But we believe that they are all for the better in order to make each and every one of you highly successful Meisters and Weapons. As I stated before, we are doing everything in our power to find a way for you to become Death Scythes, but until that time these are the changes that will be made. Now, in order to balance out this unwelcome news, I do wish to remind you that following the conclusion of the ceremony will be our traditional social. I encourage all of you to attend, especially the N.O.T. students, as it will be a great way to get to know one another and seek out partnerships. Once classes begin, you will have three weeks to declare a partner. If you are having difficulties after that time, you are more than welcome to come speak with me and we will discuss any issues."

"And that is all I have for you," he concluded. "I'm looking forward to the year ahead of us and hope to see each of you progress. With that, you are all hereby dismissed."

With the ceremony officially concluded, the dull roar of rising voices filled the plaza as students and faculty began to make their way inside the main doors. Grabbing hold of his bag, Shuvo followed the exodus, not entirely sure of what to do, but figured it best to just go with the flow of the crowd. They apparently knew what they were doing, although it gave him some relief to see that some of the younger students had the same clueless expression that he most certainly had.

Moving inside the magnificent structure that was Shibusen, a towering portrait was there to immediately greet the patrons, depicting a looming black figure much the same as Lord Death. His body and flowing cloak were rather jagged, and the only facial feature to speak of was the same Death Skull that he had seen all over Death City. In one rather comically oversized white hand he gripped a shining black scythe, while the other formed the universal hand sign for peace. Shuvo didn't need to read the brass plate below the elaborate painting to know that this was not the Lord Death he had seen mere minutes earlier, but the one that Bhante had spoken so highly of. This was the first Lord Death.

In a sense, seeing death personified made the young monk smile slightly. All he knew of the Grim Reaper before today came from the few books he had read from Bhante's collection, and many of the older texts were much more morbid in their depictions, casting Lord Death as a frightful harvester of the wicked. However, this Lord Death seemed almost joyful and carefree, yet obviously just in his ways.

Keeping pace with the other students, they wandered through a few turning corridors before eventually arriving at a large ballroom that had been colorfully decorated for the occasion. A second welcome banner identical to the first hung upon the wall while balloons and streamers dangled neatly from the ceiling. Tables of hor d'oeurvres and light snacks lined the perimeter, and seeing as how the exhaustion of his ventures was beginning to sneak up on him, it was the first place that Shuvo found himself gravitating towards. Although it was early in the afternoon and the Sixth Precept forbade monks from eating at times that were inappropriate, he found that as he hadn't eaten anything in a significant span of time that he was not acting with gluttonous intentions. At least that was what his stomach was telling him.

Fixing himself a small platter of fruits and tiny vegetables, he took only that what he felt like he needed to sustain himself before making his way through the thickening crowd towards a corner of the room. There weren't any particular rules against publicly eating, although more often than not it was something that Shuvo preferred to do quickly and in solitude. He had been in large gatherings before, but they had always been as holy celebrations that tended to be very detailed and prolonged ceremonies rather than parties. Unfortunately, life in a mountaintop monastery tended to not do many wonders for one's social skills, and despite his rather eager personality he was finding it difficult to approach someone at random and begin a conversation. Thus, for the time being he concluded he would eat his fill and then see about searching for a partner afterwards.

Pardoning himself politely through the throngs of people with a plate in one hand and a glass of water in the other, a quick bump into a bystander almost sent the food and drink toppling onto the floor below. Catching himself, Shuvo maintained his balance without spilling a drop, only to watch the individual that he had accidentally hit drop their plate with a splatter.

"My sincerest apologies, I did not mean to," the śrāmaṇera said quickly, bowing out of sincere instinct to the person. "Please, let me get you another."

Lifting his head up, he was immediately frightened by the face that looked back at him. The individual in person was a tall, lithe girl with unnaturally white hair that ran down to her shoulders, the bangs and edges of which were indigo in hue. Dressed in a long black leather jacket adorned with a variety of straps, metal buttons, and zippers that covered a blue and black stripped shirt, he could see that her food and drink had fallen onto her plaid skirt held up by a studded belt, as well as her black knee-high boots and single pink and black stocking that rose up her right leg. A variety of small metal rings and piercings were present in both of her ears, and a large black rectangular box was held onto her back by a sling.

However, it wasn't her attire that frightened him, but the dual colored eyes that stared back at him with a tinge of anger and disbelief. Behind those indigo bangs, her right eye was a light brown, while her left seemed almost a pale hue of blue with a freakishly small black pupil. It seemed to penetrate right through him and see the inner depths of his soul. He could almost feel himself becoming petrified by her gaze.

But the paralyzing spell was soon broken by a blink of the eye. With a huffing sigh, her features softened slightly as she began to wipe the stain off her clothing with the paper napkin she still clenched in her hand.

"It's alright," she replied with a slightly irritated growl. "Not a big deal."

Dropping onto one knee, she began to collect the contents back onto her plate, mumbling something incoherent as she did so. Placing his platter on the floor gingerly, Shuvo bent down to assist her, knowing full well in his mind that he was already not making a very good first impression.

"Please, let me help," he insisted.

"I said don't worry about it," the girl replied in an icy voice, collecting the last of the trash before walking over and tossing it in a can.

Dumbfounded that his willingness to assist had been met with such an ungrateful response, Shuvo watched as the girl made her way past the crowd and through a set of doors that led to an outside balcony. Bewildered as he reached down to retrieve his own food, his eye was caught by a small translucent red triangle lying on the ground beside him. Picking it up, he held it quizzically in the palm of his hand, curious as to what it might be, but also realizing that it most certainly belonged to the girl. For a moment the bald, barefoot boy hesitated, almost afraid of what she would say or do to him if he tried to approach her to return it. She was certainly the epitome thus far of the different kinds of people that Bhante had told him he would meet as he ventured outside the temple, and her demeanor appeared less than welcoming to the one who had just ruined her clothing. That, on top of those unsettling eyes, caused him to wonder for a moment if it would even be worth it to try to return the little triangle.

"No, I cannot think like that," Shuvo said softly to himself. "Remember what Bhante told you about judging."

Steeling himself, and against his better logic, he walked through the set of double doors that led to the balcony overlooking Death City. Caught once more in the sweltering heat of the desert sun, he easily found the girl leaning up against the stone railing, her face turned away as she propped her head up with her hands. With her back turned to him, he could see the variety of stickers that covered the rectangular box on her back, as well as some kind of writing on the back of her jacket that was obscured from view.

Maintaining a few feet of distance between them as a precaution, he addressed the peculiarly frightening girl with as much bravado as he could.

"Excuse me, Miss," he stated calmly, doing his best to anticipate her left eye.

Twisting her head around, it just happened to be that pale blue iris that looked upon him through her snow white hair.

"What do you want?" she questioned, obviously exasperated by his return. "Haven't you done enough already?"

Maintaining his composure as the piercing gaze burrowed into him, the boy set his food on the railing before extending his open palm outwards.

"I apologize for interrupting you," he said sincerely. "But it seems that you dropped this."

Turning to face the monk, the girl who easily stood a foot above him looked down to the little piece of red plastic he held in his hand, a look of pure inquiry spreading about her features. Picking it up and stuffing it into her coat pocket, she observed the odd little annoyance standing before her with an even cadence.

"You're new here, aren't you?" she deducted, not so much a question as much as a statement of the blatantly obvious.

"Yes, Miss," he replied, his voice perking up. "My name is Shuvo Bhakta, and this will be my first year at Shibusen. May I ask what your name is?"

Her heterochromic eyes appeared puzzled for an agonizingly long moment as they analyzed him from his shoeless feet all the way up to his hairless dome. The more she scrutinized him, the more uncomfortable he was beginning to become. He honestly couldn't tell if she was angered, irritated, confused, or a mixture of all three, and he was beginning to feel that he had very quickly worn out his welcome.

Between everything that had transpired in the course of the last few minutes, he never expected for that icy face to melt into a small smile, and he certainly couldn't have predicted the chuckle that escaped her lips.

For a brief second, he wondered if he should be more or less frightened by the fact that she was laughing.

"Shuvo, right?" she replied, cocking a brow. "Look… I'm sorry, I've just been having a really crappy day and you spilling soda all over me didn't really help any. But thanks for giving my pick back, even though I have a hundred of them. It must have fallen out of my pocket or something. And I guess since you asked, my name's Satania Rainblood."

Happy to know that the girl did not seem to be upset with him for returning her trinket, Shuvo released all of his unnecessary fears that he had been storing up since he approached her.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Satania," he replied with a smile. "Again, I am sorry for the accident. I hope that you will forgive me for it and that we may become friends."

"No," came her simple reply with a cross of the arms across her chest.

Shuvo's smile all but deflated, at a complete loss of words for what on earth he could have possibly done to upset her in the least bit. Perhaps, he reasoned, was that the damage done to her clothing was irreversible, or that he had accidentally committed some form of cultural taboo. He wracked his mind for some form of logical answer to why she would not accept his apology, but failed to produce anything of value.

Seeing that the orange-clad kid was about to short circuit his brain, the girl decided to show a bit of mercy and ease his suffering.

"You obviously don't know sarcasm very well, do you?" the white-haired girl asked, again more of a statement of facts. "Calm down, I'm just messing with you, jeez. Don't worry about the skirt, I can throw it in the wash later. And my name's not really Satania Rainblood, its Mirika. Mirika Amesdale."

A complete look of utter perplexity crossed over Shuvo's face at the revelation. So much so that Mirika could have sworn she could see little sparks popping out of his ears.

"I…I am sorry, but I am very confused right now," he stated meekly.

"Ah, c'mon Shuvo, it was a joke," she groaned, rubbing the back of her head. "You know, 'haha' and all that good stuff? I'm not really mad at you. And Satania Rainblood is just a made up name I use to mess with people. It's just something dark I came up with since people kinda expect people like me to have a weird name like that."

"People like you?" he wondered aloud. "What do you mean by that?"

"You know?" Mirika answered, gesturing to her overall appearance. "People who dress like…"

"A freak," a venomous reply emerged from the doorway leading to the balcony.

Spinning around to see where the interruption had originated from, Shuvo could literally feel the violent shift in Mirika's soul wavelength pulsing outwards. Her features that she had finally allowed to relax tensed up once more in a glaring contempt for the two individuals that approached them.

The young man and woman who made their way onto the balcony were very similar in their appearances, save for their garments, which were deliberately outfitted to compliment the other. The young woman who strode confidently towards them in a sparkling set of silver shoes was dressed in a matching silver skirt and jacket that covered her white blouse, around the neck of which was a Death Skull bolo tie covered in frumpy lace. Her face was delicately maintained with a light layer of powder and violet lipstick that contrasted her golden straw-colored hair tied into a long ponytail.

The man of equal height that stood behind her was adorned in dark brown loafers, pressed bronze slacks, and a golden jacket the same hue as his partner's hair. His white dress shirt and tie matched the woman's, with the exception of the lace, and his silvery platinum hair was cropped and well groomed.

"Piss off, Gemini," Mirika snarled through clenched teeth. "It's too early in the year for me to be shoving my foot up your prissy lil' ass."

"Such language," the girl mocked, unfazed. "I see you haven't changed a bit, 'Rainblood'. Still full of spunk and still looking like you got dressed in the dark. Have you even managed to find a replacement partner yet?"

"Flo, let's not do this right now," the sharply dressed male addressed almost exhaustively. "Let's just enjoy the party."

"Better listen to Ebb, Princess," Mirika growled.

Their words, however, seemed to go unnoticed as the young woman strode a few steps closer, turning her attention from Mirika to Shuvo. Looking him over with a critical glance, she spied the little nametag that labeled him as a Weapon as well as the manila folder labeled "N.O.T.".

"Ah, you're a first year," she hummed in pretentious amusement. "In that case I'll give you some helpful advice; don't get caught up with her. She's already been through two partners in the last year and can't even make it past the N.O.T. course. Her wavelength is so incompatible I bet not even Excalibur would want to work with her."

"Excuse me, Miss, but perhaps they just did not get to know Mirika well enough," Shuvo countered simply.

"And I suppose you know her well enough?" Flo snarked, crossing her arms.

"Not enough," he replied honestly, "But I believe that she is not as bad as you say she is."

The utter shock of surprise at the boy's words was enough to almost cause Flo to lose her composure. However, she was not about to allow a first year to get the better of her.

"Birds of a dirty feather, flock together," she quipped.

"Alright, that's enough!" Mirika shouted. "You want a fight, you just got one!"

Grabbing hold of the strap that held her box to her body, she slipped the cumbersome item off of her and gingerly placed it safely off to the side. With her cargo no longer obscuring the view, Shuvo could see the large Death Skull logo embroidered on the back of her jacket. Over the top of the skull in bold white letters was the abbreviation "DWMA", while below the skull were the letters "RRBB". With heavy steps she approached the young, unsuspecting monk.

"Shuvo," she stated, tying her best not to misdirect her rage onto him. "You kept saying earlier that you wanted to help me out, well now you can. I need you to transform into your Weapon form. We're going to fight her right here and now."

Stunned by the sudden demand, various aspects of Shuvo's consciousness fought for control over what the appropriate action would be to take in a situation such as this. Those mismatched eyes of hers bore into his, and he could see the burning fire that dwelled beneath them. Although it was never mentioned in the Precepts, non-violence was often drilled into the monks from a young age, and force was only to be used in self-defense or in the vanquishing of wickedness. He wrestled internally about what he was supposed to do, but was reminded that it was true that he did offer his assistance. It wasn't for this situation per se, but he did offer it nonetheless.

"Alright then," he replied, caving into her wishes. "I am putting my trust in you, but are you sure you can wield me in my Weapon form? I am fairly certain you have not encountered a Weapon like me before."

"Right now I don't really care," Mirika replied, her whole body shaking as she tensed up. "I don't give a crap if you're a pocket knife or a nuclear bomb, but right now I need your help. I'm not letting her get away with insulting you."

"Ebb!" she called out to the teen in the gold jacket. "Go get a teacher!"

"Fine," the sharply dressed teen droned, highly displeased by the notion that his twin sister had already gone and picked a fight before the first day of class.

As the silver-haired youth went to find a suitable mediator, Mirika's dual eyes locked onto Flo Gemini's ones of violet.

"You should have stayed inside and eaten your cake, Princess," she warned.

Off in the peripherals of her vision, a flash of orange filled her sight, followed by the almost nonexistent weight of Shuvo's Weapon form landing in her outstretched hand.


	4. A Moon With Wings of Black

Chapter 4: A Moon with Wings of Black: And Don't Forget the Violence?

"I have to say, that was a very touching speech you gave, Kid. I never knew you had such a way with words," Marie Mjölnir complimented as she dined lightly on some snacks that Stein had brought her. Seated on a chair that rested against the wall, she balanced her plate carefully on her belly bump that had now entered into its second trimester. Beside her, her partner turned husband sat haphazardly backwards in his rolling chair, resting his head on his arms as he stared off into space.

"Thank you, Miss Marie, but I can't take all of the credit," Lord Death replied graciously, watching from a distance as the students enjoyed the food and the up-tempo jazz number provided by one of Soul's records. "Liz and Patty were very insistent that I kept it short and sweet, and seeing as how that is all but impossible for me, I asked Maka if she could write it. She's much more refined in her words than I am."

The one-eyed Death Scythe let out a small laugh at his confession.

"You know that if you were still a student that would be called plagiarism, right?" she teased happily. "But I suppose I can let it slide just this once. You have more important things to worry yourself with than things like that."

"That's why I'm grateful that I have such supportive friends, especially Liz and Patty," he replied, wondering where the sisters had wandered off to. "Their work ethic surprised me at first, but they're both actually quite helpful as my personal assistants. They take care of the little things that help my day run smoothly."

"Well you know we're all here as your supporters," she reassured. "You may be a full-fledged shinigami now, but you're still only one person. You know you can always call me or Stein if you need anything. Don't stress yourself out too much."

"Thank you, I'll be sure to remember that."

Turning his attention back on the social, Kid was glad that everything so far was running exactly as planned. Every one of the Spartoi, especially the Thompson sisters, had done a fabulous job of ensuring that the ceremony went off like clockwork, and the decorations for the ballroom were all perfectly symmetrical in their arrangement, just the way he liked it. Nothing at all it seemed was giving him any cause for a neurotically-induced panic attack. Even the normally egocentric Black Star had refrained from making any kind of embarrassing scene thus far.

The students themselves appeared to be having quite a good time as they mingled and caught up with old classmates. Every now and then Kid could see the flash of light indicating that one of the Weapons had transformed, most likely first years selling themselves to potential Meisters or upperclassmen showing off in front of the N.O.T. students. Some of the new Weapons struggled to get all of their body to transform, such as the ornately thin rapier sprouting arms and legs, a morning star with a head instead of a spiked ball, and numerous other amusing mishaps.

In a sense, the shinigami felt bad for smiling at their misfortunes, but it was all part of the process. They would learn to control their abilities in due time.

From out of the crowd of people a young man a few years his junior approached them, his head hung low as he stared at the floor with hands tucked in his pockets. Kid recognized him from the previous year due in part of his distinctive goldenrod blazer, but couldn't quite put a name to a face. He didn't recall ever introducing himself back then, but it appeared the boy was making a beeline right for them.

"Excuse me, Lord Death," he begged pardon. "May I talk to Professor Stein for a moment?"

"Certainly," the shinigami answered.

Hearing his name being called caught the Three Star's attention, pulling him out of whatever random daydream he had been having. Glancing upwards, his rounded spectacles shone a pure white as he laid eyes on his inquirer.

"What is it?" he questioned evenly, showing no real indication that he was at all interested in what the boy had to say. It wasn't out of rudeness, but just the way he was.

"We need somebody to be a witness for a spar," the boy stated exhaustively, as though the mere act of asking was a cumbersome chore that was more hassle than it was worth. "Do you have a few minutes to mediate?"

"Absolutely not!" Marie interjected in her overbearingly motherly tone. "This isn't the time or place for a fight. We're in the middle of a party. Whatever it is can wait until classes are in session."

Professor Stein, however, seemed unfazed by both the question at hand and his wife's rebuttal. Sitting upright slowly in his backwards chair, he gave the faintest hint of a discouraging frown as he reached upwards to the left side of his temple, giving his screw a few clicking turns before responding.

"Is the duel a friendly or hostile one?" he asked, still showing no true emotion to the student.

"Let's just say whether a teacher is there or not, it's going to happen," the silver-haired boy replied.

"That's exactly what I wanted to hear," Stein remarked with a smile, turning his screw until a sharp click locked into place. "Duels are fruitless if the contenders are afraid of hurting one another. If I am correct in assuming, these two won't hold back. In that case, they'll be our experiment for today, given Lord Death's permission of course. This is his social after all."

All three sets of eyes immediately fell on their host, who remained momentarily unsure of just how to respond to the proposition. While both Miss Marie and Professor Stein had given the boy their answers, sometimes it was easy for Kid to forget that he was in charge of the show now and his word was absolute.

"I will allow it," he stated with a light sigh, knowing from his first encounter with Black Star and Soul that if even one of the challengers was headstrong enough, a fight was bound to occur no matter what. Father probably wouldn't have approved of students ruining the atmosphere of a party in such a manner, but at this point he had already given his answer. "Inform the challengers to report outside the Academy in five minutes."

"Yes, Lord Death," the boy replied before making his exit, hands still stuffed in his jacket.

Left to themselves once more, Marie turned her head from Stein to Kid, then back again, giving them both a scolding look.

"What?" the spectacled biologist questioned in defense.

"Don't you 'what' me," The Pulverizer harrumphed, pouting her face. "You two just had to go and ruin a perfectly nice party."

"On the contrary, Marie," Stein replied, rubbing her back thoughtfully. "I like to think of it more like a lesson in fatherhood. I do have to make sure the children play nicely, don't I?"

Giving the floor a definitive kick with his feet, the eccentric scientist took off towards the door with wheels squeaking audibly as his wife looked on in befuddlement.

* * *

Watching as the flash of tangerine light faded from her sight, the jingling of clinking metal preceded the feeling of a well balanced weight shifting into her open palm. Getting her first glimpse of Shuvo's weaponized form, the boy had transformed into a long wooden rod roughly eight feet in length, capped by a small tapered brass tip on the foot end while the business end of the staff was composed of two large, ornately crafted golden rings that formed a vesica piscis. Mounted over the top of the interlocking circles was a shining golden lotus flower with a half-foot long spear tip protruding out of its blooming center, while a long strip of orange cloth dangled down from the conjunction of the wood and decorative end. The metallic ringing that she heard came from the series of four smaller rings, two on either side, that were interlocked on the main circles, jingling as they resonated off one another. Formed in the middle of the intersecting geometries was a chocolate colored "eye" that swiveled in place as it took in its surroundings.

"Oh my, a piñata stick?!" Flo taunted with a shrill giggle. "How festive of you! Look, he even comes with his own blindfold!"

Her jeering, however, fell on deaf ears as Mirika rotated the staff back and forth in her hand, feeling Shuvo's soul wavelength connecting with her own. There was still a distinctive presence of distortion, as to be expected from a first time pairing, but his wavelength hadn't rejected hers. It was a good start, and more than she could say about some people in the past.

"Well…this is different," the pierced Meister stated to the iris that looked back at her. "What do you call this?"

"_I am a khakkhara,"_ Shuvo's voice replied from within his Weapon form. _"A ceremonial sounding staff that has been used by the monks for many centuries for both prayer and self-defense."_

"I'm not even going to attempt to pronounce that, but it looks we're in business," she said in a hardened voice, giving the rod a quick twist in her hand, listening to the tinkling of the rings as they bounced against each other. When Shuvo had said that she probably had never seen a Weapon like him before, he was right. He didn't appear to be completely useless, but with the short dagger at his tip being the only thing resembling an attacking capability, she wasn't sure of what to make of the Weapon. Only one way to find out, she supposed.

As Mirika turned her attention once more upon the Gemini sister, Shuvo could feel the agitation in her soul as it came in contact with his. It was an odd feeling to say the least, as he was particularly used to Bhante's tranquil wavelength that flowed in a harmonic rhythm, rather than the choppiness that he currently found himself in. There were certainly hints of anger and rage, but there was also something else underlying the girl's emotions that he was having a difficult time pinpointing.

For the longest time Mirika just glared at the silver-clad blonde in front of her, wanting nothing more than to cave that pretentious smile in with a fist to the face, but she knew that it wouldn't be so simple. The Gemini twins were E.A.T. students after all, and she knew first hand their reputation as one of the most effective up-and-coming teams in the Academy. And now she was about to go toe-to-toe with them with an oddball Weapon she had just met mere minutes ago. Despite everything that was happening to her today, she couldn't help but let out a small chuckle at the unfolding events.

Whatever force of the universe she had managed to piss off had a pretty twisted sense of humor, she concluded.

At long last the tension was severed momentarily by the return of the brother.

"Professor Stein is going to be the witness," Ebb relayed. "He's going to meet us in the plaza in five minutes. And congratulations, I think we just got Lord Death as a witness, too."

At that point it was Mirika who could feel the uneasiness as Shuvo's wavelength began to shake in a fit of nervousness at the mention of the spectator. She had to admit that she certainly hadn't seen that bit of news coming, and the first year didn't seem to be taking it too well either. Now she knew for sure that the universe had it out for her today.

"Splendid," Flo smiled, about facing as she proceeded towards the battleground. "I'm sure he'll be pleased to see not all of his students are failures."

Exiting off the balcony, the young teen strode away with her chin held high, her brother following behind her with a rather annoyed expression.

Once they finally left, Mirika clenched Shuvo in her right hand while using her left to sling her box back over her shoulder. Letting out an irritated growl, she began mumbling something that the monk couldn't quite make out.

"_Are you alright, Mirika?"_ he inquired, not faring much better at disguising his shaking nerves.

"Yeah, I'm good," the dual-eyed Meister replied, breathing in deep before letting out an agitated huff. "I've dealt with her crap for awhile now, so I'm used to it, but the way she dragged you into it was pretty low."

"_Her words do not hurt me at all," _the Weapon replied. _"If I allow a stranger power over me, either by force or with words, then I am no better than their slave."_

"Yeah, well do me a favor anyways and humor me for a bit. I know you said you don't care what she says, but I do. I'm gonna make her get on her hands and knees and apologize."

Watching her balance, the Meister leapt swiftly onto the ledge of the balcony, spying her opponents already waiting down in the plaza a few stories below. Beside them stood the distinctive figures of Professor Stein and Lord Death awaiting their arrival on the battleground, which was now magically devoid of the rows of chairs from moments earlier, although the stage still remained.

"You ready for this?" she questioned with a firm timbre, feeling the waves of uncertainty and nervousness that came from the rookie Weapon.

"_Yes… I am ready,"_ came his reply as he steeled himself for the inevitable bout. His Soul Perception had shown him the souls of the two people he was about to face, and he knew for a fact that he was far outclassed.

"Alright then," she concluded. "Don't worry about it, you'll do fine."

With one hand clutched around the monk staff and the other holding tight to her precious cargo, Mirika stepped off the railing, allowing herself to fall upon the oversized Death Skull that formed the entrance to the Academy. Letting gravity to do its work, she rode the curve of the structure before jumping off into the plaza, slamming into the cobblestone below with a heavy crunch from beneath her gothic boots. Rising out of the dust of the small crater she had created, Mirika stormed over towards the sidelines with a sharpened glare.

"Professor Stein. Lord Death," she addressed in acknowledgement. "Umm…Lord Death?"

Immediately, everyone was aware of the way in which Lord Death looked upon the young girl with a wide-eyed shock. Cupping his hand over his face, he appeared on the verge of vomiting right in front of everyone.

"Repulsive," he whimpered, crouching down at the knees and grabbing a fistful of striped hair as he neared the verge of tears. "It's…downright repulsive. Seven earrings on the right and five on the left… no stocking on the left leg…uneven bangs… zippers on the jacket not properly aligned…and those eyes. Those eyes… they're…they're… two different colors! It's unnatural…an abomination!"

Three of the four challengers gave the shinigami a questionable look, while the fourth was suddenly caught in a fit of conceited laughter.

"Actually, heterochromia is quite common in the natural world, although less frequent in humans," Stein corrected evenly. "And I'm sure your students don't appreciate being called abominations. Potential experiments, yes. Abominations, not so much."

"Yes, I suppose you're right, Professor. I apologize for that," Lord Death stated, picking himself up. But as the Reaper lifted his head from the ground below, his attitude seemed to do a complete turn-around, eyes glimmering in fascination and admiration as he rushed over towards the imperfect Meister.

"But that Weapon!" he exclaimed, examining the staff closely with a giddy excitement. "That perfectly symmetrical pattern with an even number of rings on each side! Oh, and that lotus on top is exquisite! What beautiful craftsmanship! All Weapons should be as symmetrical as this one right here! I'm ecstatic to have such a fine Weapon attending the Academy!"

Blindsided by the sudden change of events, Shuvo was at an almost loss of words to know that the great and powerful Lord Death had just complimented him in such a grand manner. It was almost too much to comprehend between how fast everything in the last fifteen minutes had transpired.

"_L-Lord Death, it is a true honor to finally meet you," _the khakkhara stammered, bowing in respect within the blackened void of his transformation. _"My name is Shuvo Bhakta and I have traveled many-"_

"You can do introductions later, Shuvo," Mirika cut in forcefully. "We've got more important things to take care of."

"My, my, aren't we eager?" Gemini scoffed. "Ready to be humiliated in front of the Grim Reaper himself, I see?"

No acknowledgement came at the jab as Mirika gripped the sling on her shoulder and yanked it off.

"Watch this for me would you, Professor Stein?" she asked, setting the box next to him and out of the way.

"Of course," the man replied coolly from his position in his chair. "Now let's get this started, shall we? I have a none-too-happy wife to get back to and would prefer to not be on the receiving end of one of her hammer blows."

Turning a venomous glare to their opponent, Mirika and Flo kept their eyes locked on one another as they took opposite ends of the polarized battleground; a blackened raven against a silver dove.

Within the infinite black expanse of his Weapon form, Shuvo could feel the churning emotions of the Meister as he attempted to calm his own shaking nerves. It was like being submerged in an invisible, unpredictable ocean; the waves in a constant state of flux as they rose and fell with the girl's state of being. Trying his best to tune the interference out, he took a few deep, calming breaths before assuming his meditative posture.

On the outside, at the far end of the plaza, the silver-dressed blonde placed her feet shoulder-width apart before crossing her right arm across her chest.

"Shall we proceed then?" she stated, more of a command to her sibling than a question.

In an uncaring nod, Ebb gave a lazy jump before emitting a golden radiance. Stretching and contorting, he wrapped easily around his sister's extended arm as his Weapon form gave a distinctive clanging thud as it connected with the cobblestone below.

With only her head visible from the neck up, Flo's body was now almost completely protected by a semi-circular gold shield decorated with patterns of bronze and copper, held onto her arm by a series of leather straps and a bar to maintain grip. At the very center of the rectangular slab of hardened metal lay a large raised Roman numerical two with a slender double helix pattern running through the symbols.

"You can begin whenever you're ready," Stein announced.

"Let's be sure to give Lord Death a good show, Rainblood," Gemini snided.

"You want a show, Princess?!" Mirika seethed with an accusing finger trained on the girl, her soul reigniting in a fiery fury. "I'll give you a damn show!"

Taking off in a bum rush towards Flo with a raging roar, she clenched Shuvo with both hands before leaping into the air. With a mighty vertical swing, the jingling of the rings reverberated as she brought the small daggered protrusion to bear against the shield. With a resounding clank, the golden spearhead bounced off of the equally lustrous shield, making no visible dent or mark against Ebb's hardened surface. Repeating the motion, Mirika hammered at the shield with a tenacious assault, but couldn't seem to penetrate the wall of defense. She tried shifting her attack to the sides, but was easily blocked as Flo maneuvered her brother without difficulty to parry the strikes. Despite his Weapon form's heft and size, she didn't even break a sweat as she remained grounded to where she was.

"_Mirika, I am not a hammer," _the monk called out, his eye swiveling in between the intersected circles. _"You need to back away and allow me to focus."_

"Focus?! Focus on what?!" the Meister shouted back, thrusting the speared tip in a two handed grip to try to find an opening. "I'm trying to kick her ass here!"

"And you're doing such a wonderful job at it," Flo taunted casually, appearing almost bored with the charade. "I have to say I was hoping for a little bit more fight out of you."

As if to emphasize her point, she lifted the glimmering protective barrier and swung out in a wide arc towards the white-haired teen with ease. So attentive was Mirika on dodging the incoming attack that when she leaned back to avoid being hit, she never saw the silver-clad girl let the momentum take her into a pirouette, bringing a high round-house kick slamming into her jaw.

Sending the enraged teen staggering to the side several feet, Flo wasted no time in charging up to the stunned girl with her scutum raised in front of her.

"Gemini Art: Phalanx Force," she stated casually, channeling her soul wavelength and sending it to her Weapon, who in turn released a yellow battering ram of pulsing light. Slamming head-on into her opponent, the blast of concentrated spirit sent the N.O.T. students flying across the plaza, skidding and tumbling across the stone before grinding to a halt.

"Damn, that hurt," Mirika wheezed as she clenched her abdomen where the blow had struck.

"_Mirika, please listen to me,"_ Shuvo pleaded, watching as the teen lifted herself up slowly from the pavement, the blackened bruise across her left cheek now swelling from the impact of Gemini's shoe. _"Please give me just a little bit of time to concentrate and I can help you."_

"She's not going to give us any time, Shuvo," the Meister hissed, a faint trail of blood dripping down her black-painted lips. "I need to find another way around that stupid shield of hers."

"Oh, I believe I can help you with that," Flo remarked, overhearing the pair's conversation. "Ebb, switch."

"Sure," the scutum replied.

In a twin flash of radiance, silver and gold replaced one another. Resuming his human form, Ebb now clung onto the violet handle of a long shining whip around nine to ten feet in length. Comprised of a hundred or so steel links rather than traditional braided leather, the Weapon was topped off at the very end by a bladed weight the same shape as the symbol in the middle of her brother's shield.

"Crap, I was afraid they were going to do that," Mirika muttered to herself. "Coward won't even fight me herself, but I've gotta take this opening now."

With staff at the ready, heavy boots pounded the ground as once more the Meister took off in a reckless charge, the dark tail of her jacket trailing behind her as she went straight for the uncaring young gentleman in front of her.

"_Mirika!" _Shuvo shouted, raising his voice for the very first time in protest.

The clanking of moving chains preceded the swoosh of the bladed metal end cutting through the air as Ebb reared back and snapped the whip in an underhanded motion. Sending a pulse of his soul wavelength flowing through the tether, the young man barely had to make any dramatic movements to get the links to follow his command.

Seeing the arc of the whip as it threatened to cut through her stomach, Mirika dodged the attack by jumping over the steel chain, trying to get within the relatively safe zone where the blade couldn't cause any havoc. She had learned that the disadvantage of ranged weapons came in their "blind spot", an area that was close enough to the Meister to where they couldn't react in time to properly defend themselves.

"Gemini Art: Pulsing Metal," the boy stated as he channeled his wavelength through the handle.

The incoming attack was quickly foiled as the whip sprang to life like a metallic serpent, reaching out into the air and wrapping around her ankle in a constricting hold. Ensnared midair by the siblings' trap, Mirika plunged to the ground ungracefully, bracing for impact as she tumbled onto the cobblestone with her opponent still bound around her leg. With a flick of the wrist, Ebb sent the young girl skidding as the chain whip dragged and then flung her to the far side of the battleground.

Doing the only thing she could think of in the frantic moment, Mirika plunged the foot end of the khakkhara into the ground, sending sparks flying from the brass tip as the Weapon slowed their momentum before impacting the far railing. With a distinctive thud, the Meister slumped face down on the plaza, blood seeping out of her lips in a small crimson pool. Groaning audibly, she reached out weakly and retrieved the staff that had fallen from her grasp. Using Shuvo as a prop, she pulled herself up again, refusing to lie down in surrender.

"Alright…" she conceded, hacking a mouthful of coppery phlegm at her feet. "Let's try it your way."

* * *

"So what do you think of the fight, Lord Death?" the eccentric scientist questioned coolly as he gave a few turning clicks of his screw. "Rather one-sided, isn't it?"

"Indeed," Kid replied, watching the massacre of a spar play out before his eyes. "The shield and the chain whip are a particularly formidable combination. I'm rather surprised I've never heard of them before today. What are their names?"

"Those are the newest additions courtesy of the Gemini family; Eberhardt and Florence," Stein explained, watching the fight to see when he would be forced to intervene. "Their abilities are synonymous with their dualistic nature; Eberhardt providing the push and Florence providing the pull of their tandem dance. As you can see, on top of being twins, they're both hybrids capable of acting as the Meister and Weapon for the other. Think of it as the next evolutionary step for siblings who can wield one another, like Liz and Patty. The big difference, though, is that the Gemini twins are capable of Soul Resonance, whereas the Thompson sisters aren't. They're quite fascinating to watch, I have to admit, although I wasn't able to study them as thoroughly as I would have liked last year. It's a shame really. Push and pull, defense and offense, introvert and extrovert, gold and silver, ebb and flow; they're a near perfect complement of one another."

"A beautifully balanced partnership," Kid remarked. "I'm certainly glad they're our students and not enemies. But what do you make of the other two, Professor?"

As if on cue, the silver whip sprang to life before him, capturing the asymmetrical girl mid-attack and tossing her all the way across the plaza without any apparent effort.

"You tell me," Stein replied evenly.

"Well, I don't know either of them to be honest," Kid observed, using his Soul Perception to get a read on the duo, the translucent spheres of their spirits appearing before him. "The monk staff is unmistakably a first year by the looks of him, since his soul is shaking like a leaf and he attempted to introduce himself to me beforehand. Honestly, I should have stopped the fight knowing that, but it's too late now. He seems very polite and eager to please, along with a well grounded and collected wavelength. His soul is also exceptionally strong for someone so new, but from what I can see he lacks a practical purpose as a Weapon. He has no true offensive or defensive capabilities that I have seen so far, unless he is an elemental Weapon like Fire and Thunder and just hasn't shown us yet. I don't want to doubt him so soon, so I'll give him time and see what happens down the road. As for the…not repulsively unbalanced girl… her soul is very dominant in comparison to the Weapon's. It's a chaotic ball of anger and aggression, and very headstrong with little room for compromise."

Watching as the young teen in question pulled herself up after such a beating, Kid changed his perspective slightly.

"But that stubbornness is also one of her strengths," he continued. "Her unwillingness to give up when the odds are stacked against her reminds me a lot of Black Star. She has that same determination to prove something to the world, and nothing is going to stand in her way. There's also something else in there I'm having difficulty deciphering. It's something mixed into those angry emotions of hers, but I can't quite put my finger on it."

"I see what you mean," Stein agreed with a nod. "I believe the term you're searching for is 'righteous indignation'. Its anger brought about by the perception of injustice rather than hate. I guess you could call it good anger, but that's a very subjective way of putting it."

"Interesting," Kid hummed, intrigued to see how the rest of the spar would play out despite the inevitable conclusion that it was already over.

* * *

"How long do you need to concentrate?" Mirika questioned, gathering herself together in defiance before getting ready to head back once more into the fray.

"_If you can calm your soul down for me, one to two minutes_," the khakkhara replied. _"If you stay as you are, it will take longer. I need a tranquil environment in which to focus, so you cannot use me at all to fight."_

"One to two minutes?! You're kidding me?!" the Meister protested. "I can't dodge them for that long!"

"_Please, at least try to give me all the time you can. I know this can work."_

Shaking off the fact that both of their bodies ached from their wounds and they had yet to put in a single scratch on their opponents, Mirika found herself smiling that always unexplainable smile she did when things went to hell in a handbasket, and she laughed. Despite the aches that cried out in her face and in her chest, she chuckled at the perverse joke that the universe had put her at the butt of today.

"One minute," she declared. "I'm counting on you."

With the clock ticking in her head, Mirika approached the twins with deliberately slowed steps, faking a limp while at the same time trying to buy the Weapon as much precious time as possible. It wasn't in her nature to resort to playing dirty like that in battle, but if whatever Shuvo had cooking in that shaved head of his could give them a slight leg up and keep the fight from being a complete humiliation, she was all for it.

Within the void of his Weapon form, the monk could feel the waves of the invisible ocean begin to calm themselves ever-so-slightly. It wasn't nearly as tranquil as he would have preferred, but he could work with it. Closing his eyes, he tried to push all distractions from his mind and focus only on the natural resonance of the soul closest to him in proximity; Mirika's. He could feel her anger beginning to subside, which in turn allowed him to calm his own soul down and feed the tranquility back to her in a flowing cycle. As time was a factor, he chose to focus only on one subject matter, and that was the genuine laugh he had seen her display after he first approached her. It was a glimpse into the true nature of the otherwise frightening girl, and it gave him happiness to know that she could allow something so positive to shine through all of the negativity that surrounded her. Even if it had only been for a split moment, it was certainly something precious.

Through the haze and distortion, he allowed this single thought to gather at a point in his mind, creating a kernel of energy that began to grow. The more he became mindful of the good aspects of this wild endeavor in which he had found himself being dragged along, the more the seed of consciousness grew, expanding just a little bit bigger with each passing moment. It harmonized within his own soul, giving him courage and strength as he concentrated on maintaining the feeling and keeping it thriving.

"_Get ready, Mirika,"_ he announced.

Whether the preoccupied Meister heard him or not, he wasn't sure, as no response came. Either way, he was ready to release the concentrated energy onto her. With a mindful exertion, he mentally pushed the positivity through his soul and into her own.

Rearing back from the whirling chain, Mirika maintained a safe distance as she allowed the khakkhara to do whatever it is he needed to do. Ebb had forced her to give up her fake injury act, coming at her with the bladed whip in an attempt to end the fight as quickly and painlessly as possible. In reality he was hoping that the spunky goth would just raise the white flag, but to no such luck. Instead, she taunted him wordlessly, acting as though she was about to commit to an attack before retreating beyond the twins' reach.

She didn't know how much time had passed in reality, but when she heard Shuvo tell her to prepare herself, she couldn't help but feel a moment of relief. Withdrawing back to a safe distance, she saw the staff begin to radiate a very faint aura of white as a flow of power filtered through. The four smaller rings began to levitate slightly, gravitating outwards before Mirika heard the Weapon's voice chant out like a prayer.

"_Eight Path Soul Gate: First Awakened Light."_

Her soul and body were immediately filled with a newfound strength and energy, although not terribly much. It felt as though she had just downed an energy drink or two, but without the jittery side effects.

"Alright, now we're talking," Mirika stated, bringing the glowing Weapon to the ready. "Good job."

But as she took her first step to get the two back in the fight, her body weakened once more as all the energy was sucked out of her. Beside her, she saw Shuvo return to his human form in a flash, collapsing against the stone in a heap of orange.

Beneath the sweltering heat of the laughing sun, the Weapon could hear the muffled shouts of voices calling his name before he felt the world around him slip into the black.

* * *

**A/N: The Roman numeral/helix symbol that comprised Flo's weighted blade and Ebb's shield is the logo for the alternative metal band Gemini Syndrome. **


	5. What Lies Beyond Our Fickle Periphery

Chapter 5: What Lies Beyond Our Fickle Periphery: The Crossroad between Destiny and Coincidence?

Within the world where he now found himself bound by, there was only the deepest pitch of black; infinite, boundless, and radiating from nowhere and all around inside the subconscious fathoms of the mind and spirit. Dwelling in both form and intangibility, his body levitated in a state of incomprehension about the swirling void as he heard a wordless voice that was his own penetrate the veil. From out of the phantasm, an echo came in the form of lucidity, bringing with it sensation and creation. Without sensation in the physical definition of the word, he felt his exposed feet land softly upon solid ground, holding him upright though the concept of direction in and of itself was an invalid one in the realm of the subliminal psyche.

With a swirling ripple, the darkness dissolved into a pool of glorious shining ink, shimmering with the faintest brilliance of twelve thousand precious gems breaking through the grim. Upon the surface of the sparkling onyx mirror his eyes now gazed upon, the reflection of the glowing, yellow face of the crescent moon looked back to greet him with its ever-wicked smile.

Now standing beneath the shadowed canopy of the vibrant peach blossoms that fell gently upon the pristine water, he watched as they were swept away by the rhythmic flow with only the sounds of the trickling stream and chirping insects to be heard. Breathing in the crispness of the cool air that cascaded down the mountainside, he took a seat beneath his earthly cover, content to bask in its soothing vibrancy. Closing his eyes, he prepared himself to be swept away like the petals he admired before him.

This was his world of tranquility, and all was right in the heavens and earth.

Here, within this introspection, there was no past or future, but only present through which he merely observed the world in a state of permanency not otherwise found. It did not conform to the sweet and bitter nature of natural flux, but merely represented in all its vividness the way things were. There was no need for recollection of that which has been, nor fear of that which is yet to be. There was only him and the moment.

But what was this feeling that he sensed coming upon the breeze from the distance? It was new and foreign in its ways that suddenly filled him with both uncertainty and trepidation. It seemed to seek him out within his own tranquility, disturbing and disrupting in its presence, although not entirely unwelcome.

From out of the glistening stream before him, the water began to rise and contort, taking form as it shifted in shape to create a blackened, faceless being that stood without hindrance upon the flowing surface. Tall and slender, its body dripped of onyx ink that reflected the haunting glow that beamed down from the crescent moon, looking upon the boy without expression or gaze. It was imposing in its presence, but did not seem to detract from the overall atmosphere of the night.

"Namaste," the boy greeted evenly from his position below the figure.

Whether this figure… being… entity…or whatever it wished to call itself, heard the statement intended for it, it showed no indication of acknowledgement as it maintained its position upon the reflective surface.

"May I ask who you are?" a simple inquiry followed.

Watching the voided, blank expression of the figure warily, only the echoing silence of the night and soft trickle of the stream rose out in response.

"Is there something I can help you with?"

Once again, there seemed to be initial response by the being to the monk's attempt to establish some form of connection. Moments passed by in utter stillness, as though both entities were trying to see into the mysterious depths of the other. After what seemed like many agonizingly tense moments, it was the being that first broke the stalemate by making an approach towards the shore. With a lengthy step, it began its first movements towards the cover of the peach blossoms, striding with an agonizingly slow pace.

Reaching the shoreline, it towered around a good three meters in height as it looked down upon the young teen, its head cocked slightly in apparent curiosity. With long, slender fingers of dripping ink, it reached down to the unwavering monk, pressing its thumb between his eyebrows and its remaining fingers across his bare temple. Its touch was gentle, but nonetheless odd as the boy remained planted to his position, allowing the entity to continue with its actions.

"What are you doing?"

Springing from the fingertips of the figure, a pulse of energy came forth, seeping into the monk's flesh and resonating deep within his core. In its aftershock, repetitive waves cascaded in a harmonic rhythm throughout his body, gentle and melodic in their sensation. With eyes closed shut in a blissful trance, his level of introspection went deeper into its own fold, pulling him inwards as all rationality of thought and being seemed to disappear in an instance as the pulsations continued to creep through him, spurred by this alien entity that had invaded his personal tranquility.

"Proxy?" the boy questioned softly to both himself and the figure.

Staring with wide chocolate eyes into the palm of the figure, the dualistic sensation of being and non-being returned to him once more, pulling the darkened veil over his sight as the levitation yanked him through intangibility and back into the physical.

With a flicker, a blinding light of piercing fluorescent white filled his vision as his ears picked up the distinctive melodic rhythm he had heard only moments ago resonating within him. Clenching his eyes to block the sharp glow, a small groan escaped his lips as he stirred gently beneath the light cotton sheets he found himself tucked away in. With a wary timidity, he willfully forced himself to readjust himself with his surroundings.

"Well, well, welcome back to the world of the living," a kind, feminine voice greeted.

Allowing the light from the series of fluorescent bulbs above him to subside in their intensity, Shuvo awoke to see a dark-skinned woman donned in a white uniform sitting at a desk nearby sorting through a variety of charts and files on clipboards. Despite the series of bandages that covered the majority of her body, he could see the genuine smile and turquoise eyes that shone from behind them as she approached his bedside.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, checking the status of the IV drip that currently ran into the Weapon's right arm.

Shaking off the groggy haze that filled his head, it took a moment for Shuvo to fully comprehend everything that was going on around him; from the cryptic dreamscape, to his new surroundings, to the recollection of his most previous memories.

"Tired," he replied, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "And very hungry. W-Where am I, Miss…?"

"You're in the Shibusen infirmary," the woman replied casually, placing her fingers against his wrist to check his pulse. "I'm Miss Nygus, the Head Nurse. And you, Mister Bhakta, just so happen to have the honor of being my very first patient of the year. It seems like you fainted from exhaustion during your little bout yesterday. From the looks of it, you were definitely into the beginning stages of serious dehydration as well as hunger fatigue, but nothing some rest and proper nutrition can't fix. How long has it been since you've had anything substantial to eat?"

It took a brief moment for Shuvo to recollect just exactly how long it truly had been since he had anything of nutritional value.

"Two days."

"Two days?" Nygus repeated evenly with a serious tone. "That is unacceptable and irresponsible, not to mention unhealthy. Even if you're just a first year, you're a Weapon now and need to be in peak health to be of any use to anyone, including yourself. Being a student at the DWMA is not a part-time job and you need to be ready to go at any time to defend both your Meister and yourself. There is no excuse to starve yourself like that. Do you understand?"

"Y-Yes, Miss."

"Good."

Releasing her hold on his wrist, the nurse jotted his pulse rate down on a chart before walking over towards a small white box in the corner.

"I apologize for being a burden," Shuvo stated meekly.

"You're no burden at all," Nygus replied, handing him a bottle of a cold bright yellow beverage. "It is part of my job description after all, and as far as patients go, you're definitely one of the easiest I've dealt with. Just be sure to drink plenty of fluids and eat properly to keep your strength up. This heat has a way of sneaking up on you if you're not prepared for it. I'm going to keep you on bed rest for the rest of the day just to be sure you're good to go and then you'll be free to leave."

"Thank you, Miss Nygus," the monk said graciously, taking a small sip of the tangy drink, his stomach rumbling in response on its own free will.

"I know you must be starving for some solid food," the mummified medic commented. "I don't have anything here besides some snacks, but how about I get your Meister to go fetch you something?"

"My…Meister?" Shuvo questioned in slight befuddlement, rubbing his brow to try to clear the remaining fuzziness from his mind.

"The Amesdale girl?" Nygus replied with a hint of uncertainty. "She's been out in the hall strumming that guitar of hers this whole time waiting to make sure you were alright. I told her you were fine, but I don't think she's moved at all since they brought you in. I just naturally assumed she was your Meister."

A soft rapping at the door frame alerted them to the subject in question standing in the entranceway. With her black case slung back over her shoulder, she appeared haggard and tired with the prominent swelling on her cheek now a deep shade of blue and her body covered in a series of cuts and scrapes.

"Speaking of whom," the nurse remarked, motioning for the girl to enter.

"I heard my name," Mirika stated nonchalantly as she made her way over to the bedside, stuffing her hands in her pockets as she eyed the bedridden Weapon with an even glance. "Speak of the Devil and she will come, right?"

Whether she claimed the title in seriousness or in jest, Shuvo couldn't really decipher at that particular moment in time. However, there was something about her presence that, despite all that had transpired over the course of their spar, gave him a feeling of gratitude knowing that she cared enough to have stayed as long as she had.

"So, how're you feeling?" Mirika asked, turning her attention to the khakkhara, her tone and features softening slightly.

"I am alright, thank you, although I am very hungry," the monk replied, his stomach growling out once again in confirmation. "Miss Nygus has been kind enough to take care of me and says I should be free to go later on today."

"Good to know," she said, breathing a small sigh of relief. "Well I guess I can run into town and grab you something to eat considering I kinda put you in here in the first place. There's a pretty good burger joint not too far away if you're down for that."

"I am not familiar with that, but I will be grateful for anything you give me," the boy said.

Arching a brow in shock, Mirika's expression appeared as though the Weapon had just spoken ill about the staple of the American diet.

"You've never had a burger?" she reeled before rolling her eyes with an exhausted groan. "Good grief, you're killing me right now. Alright, well just hold tight and I'll be back in a bit. You want anything else while I'm out and about? Miss Nygus?"

"I am alright, thank you."

"I'm good," the medic replied. "But if you wouldn't mind running by the corner store and getting a few more sports drinks for the fridge, that would be a great help."

With her orders in hand, the Meister about faced, striding out the door to fulfill her errands.

"Food and sports drinks. Got it," she relayed, raising her right hand over her shoulder and throwing a gesture with her index and pinky fingers raised in the air in a laid-back manner.

With a clunking of heavy boots against the tile floor and the tail of her coat trailing beyond the entrance to the infirmary, Mirika was off, leaving Shuvo and Nygus to themselves once more.

"She's an interesting young lady, isn't she?" the bandaged woman commented as she went back to her paperwork. "So if she's not your Meister, is she a friend of yours?"

It was a question that although innocent on the surface, struck something deep within the weary boy. He understood the nature of student and superior very well, and the concept of family and brotherhood, both by blood and association, was something very precious to him. He knew the patrons of the nearby village back in Tibet and cared for their wellbeing immensely. But this concept of a friend, for whatever reason, seemed alien to him. He certainly wasn't incapable of understanding the basic premise of friendship, but the ability to put a label on the girl who he had coincidentally become the Weapon for only once eluded him. What was the appropriate term for the dual-eyed Meister?

"I suppose you could say that," Shuvo answered somewhat reluctantly, taking another sip of his drink.

Seeing that Miss Nygus had turned her attention back to whatever duties she had been performing prior to her patient's awakening, Shuvo took a brief moment to reach over towards his bag, checking its contents just to be sure that what little he had brought with him still remained in its appropriate place. Satisfied that all of the contents of the sack were all present and accounted for, he replaced it atop the nightstand and tried his best to not focus on the immense hunger that was plaguing him. Forcing his thoughts to wander away from the idea of food at least for a little while longer, they in turn found the voided, featureless face of the entity appearing within his mind's eye.

It was only an apparition of his dreamscape, so why did it bother him so?

He supposed that, in all logical conclusions, that it was just the incomprehensible effect brought about by the mixture of all energy seemingly drained from his being and the erratic sleeping patterns that had overcome him since his departure from the monastery. Thoughts tended to wander when the mind and body were in a state of exhaustion, and that was all that there really was to it.

* * *

It was well beyond half an hour later before the turbulence of his thoughts was interrupted by the echoing of clunking footsteps in the otherwise empty school hallway. Arriving just outside the closed door, three definitive knocks of a boot kicking against the entry alerted the nurse and patient to the Meister's return.

"She sure knows how to make herself known," Nygus mumbled to herself as she retrieved the door, allowing Mirika to shuffle in with a two large drinks cradled in one arm and her other hand carrying numerous greasy paper bags and a single plastic bag.

"Alright, I didn't know what you would like, so I just got like four burgers with everything on it," she explained, setting the cluster of sacks on one of the empty nightstands. "And I got those drinks for you, Miss Nygus. I got a six pack of lemon-lime if that's alright."

"That's perfectly fine," the nurse replied, taking the plastic bag with the drinks and stocking them in the fridge.

Digging into one of the oil-soaked bags, Mirika produced two large patties wrapped in foil, handing one over to Shuvo while keeping the other for herself. Unwrapping the foreign delicacy with a hint of unknown intrigue, the monk stole a glance at the Meister as she hungrily bit into her own with a ravenous appetite. Drips of the meaty juices dribbled lightly down her chin as she devoured the morsel with greed. It was only when she caught the boy watching her that she halted her gluttonous endeavor.

"What's up?" she questioned, grabbing a napkin to clean the lingering condiments off her face. "I thought you said you were starving?"

Hurriedly shifting his look away from the girl back to his meal, there was a small, almost miniscule, upwards turn of his lips as he held the meal in his hands.

"Is this beef?" he asked timidly.

Cocking a brow in perplexity, it took all but a moment for the answer to the question at hand to fall into place. Why she hadn't bothered to notice it at first was beyond her, but it all suddenly started to make sense. Of course the overly-formal, oddball Weapon from a far away land would probably have some sort of eccentric religious rules on what you could and couldn't eat, she deducted. For all she knew, she had probably just taken a fat bite out of one of his sacred animals or committed some form of blasphemous act in his culture.

"Oh, don't tell me you're a veggie," she grumbled, not really caring either way if she did offend him. "You could have told me that before I went and dropped thirty bucks on food."

Taken aback by the girl's sudden conclusion, Shuvo shook his head quickly in disagreement.

"No, no, it is not that," he replied humbly. "It is just that I have not eaten beef in quite some time. Where I am from, we monks only eat what we are provided by the villagers. That is why I am a khakkhara; a 'begging staff'. Meat is not scarce, and we eat chicken and pork on occasion, but beef is especially rare. Cattle take time to grow and the villagers need them to plow the fields for crops. So to be able to have beef like this is a treat. Thank you, Mirika."

It was a reply that the white-haired teen certainly hadn't seen coming, and the simplicity of the explanation sent a small tinge of guilt through her as she stood there with a half-eaten cheeseburger in hand. The concept of it, although foreign to her, struck a chord inside of her as she wondered if this little annoyance had really grown up his whole life begging for handouts. Even if the picture he painted wasn't one of a dirty street bum shaking down random passersbys for spare change, the fact remained that it had literally only taken her thirty minutes to run down and pick up a handful of juicy patties was unsettling.

"Don't get all sappy on me," she forced out, taking another bite of her meal. "So quit talking and eat the dang burgers. I don't need you passing out on me again. Besides, I want to talk turkey with you when you're done."

"Talk turkey?" Shuvo wondered aloud.

The even growl that escaped the exasperated Meister beside him quickly silenced his inquiry, feeling that it was probably best if he just stopped talking and ate. It was for him that she had gone to retrieve the food in the first place, and the Sixth Precept was pretty much null and void at this point. Bringing the food to his lips, he took a small, tentative bite of the newfound sustenance, immediately being hit by the smokiness of the beef and the variety of other flavors and textures. Dripping greasy juices onto the napkins below, he savored the long overdue meal momentarily before the feral instincts that he normally kept suppressed resurfaced as he dove in, overwhelmed by the emptiness in his stomach that needed to be filled.

"Holy crap, I think he likes it," Mirika remarked to nobody in particular, watching as typically well mannered boy went to town on the morsel.

"I advise you to slow down, Mister Bhakta," Nygus interjected. "Overeating can be just as bad for you as under-eating in your case."

Heeding the older woman's warning, Shuvo caught himself mid-bite and reeled his actions in under control; an expression of slight embarrassment and shame washing over his face.

"I apologize," he stated remorsefully. "It is just that this is very good."

"Ain't it?" Mirika affirmed, taking another bite of her own before slurping on her soda.

Within the white walls of the sterile infirmary, an easy peacefulness fell over them as the two enjoyed their midday meals. Neither of the two students said anything to one another, left to their own thoughts as the only sounds to be heard were of Miss Nygus shuffling through her paperwork. Light from the burning sun outside filtered in easily through the nearby window, illuminating the room in a pleasant glow.

It was in the moment that the Weapon had to remind himself that despite the chaotic adventures that stemmed from his constant travels, his arrival in Death City, his accidental meeting of the brash, sarcastic, and abrasive Mirika Amesdale, and their subsequent humiliation in front of none other than Lord Death himself, that he could at long last breathe easy. What was done was done, but the long and uncertain journey before him still awaited him to choose which path he would follow.

"You done?" Mirika's voice called out to him as he finished off the second patty, breaking through his musings. She herself was still working on her second, although her pace wasn't nearly as rushed as his had been.

"Yes, I am. Thank you very much for the meal."

"Okay, first off, quit thanking me for everything," the Meister mumbled. "I know you're just trying to be nice, but you don't have to end every sentence with it. At least not to me. And second, now that you're all nice and fat again, we need to talk about what happened yesterday."

"Miss Nygus, can you give us ten minutes? We need to talk about something kinda personal," she questioned, not wanting to upset the Three Star by kicking her out of her own office.

"Hmm?" the nurse responded to her name being called. "Alright then. Ten minutes. I need to run these to Sid anyways."

Scooting out of her seat, she gathered her files up before leaving her two students to their own devices.

Standing above his bedside with those unsettling eyes bearing down on him, Shuvo suddenly wished that he was capable of sinking just a little bit further into the mattress to put some distance between him and her. Although her appearance in general no longer struck him as much as it did upon their first meeting, those irises of brown and blue continued to stir something uneasy within him when she looked at him.

"A-Alright," he gulped, forcing his body to relax as he mentally prepared for the conversation at hand. "What do you wish to talk about?"

"What the hell was that thing that you did before you blacked out on me?" she interrogated. "You know, that 'Eight Soul Lights' or whatever you called it?"

"The Eight Path Soul Gate?" he answered. "It is one of my abilities as a khakkhara. It is difficult to explain, but if I concentrate hard enough on something I can focus its natural wavelength into energy. I still do not entirely know how to control it, though. It is a very fickle ability."

"So that's what that was? You can just focus on something and make energy out of it?" Mirika questioned, her curiosity now peaked.

"It is more complicated than that, but yes."

"So, hypothetically speaking, if you could concentrate for five minutes instead of one, you could give someone a ridiculously powerful boost?"

"I…suppose I could," the monk replied unsurely, not really wanting to overplay the effectiveness of his ability.

There was an uneasy silence that followed as the girl took her time contemplating the nature of the Weapon she had wielded. Analyzing the pros as well as the cons of their fight against the Gemini twins, she tried to look past the humiliation and blinded rage that still lingered within her judgment. They had connected souls, which was an important first step in her book, but he was hardly a Weapon she felt comfortable using. He wasn't a sword, or a scythe, or a gun, all of which would have suited her style far better than his current form. On top of all that, there was the accumulation of all that had happened, not only in the last twenty-four hours, but in the last year itself. She was hardly making any sort of name for herself, not that in all seriousness she gave a damn what anyone thought, but her reputation wasn't exactly one of high regard at the moment.

"Let me ask you something, Shuvo," she said in an even tone. "You seem like a pretty honest guy, so I hope that you'll be straight with me. And I don't care what your response is as long as you're up front with me about it, cause I don't mess around with BS."

Giving a brief pause to let the words sink in, she saw that she now commanded the khakkhara's full attention.

"We got our asses handed to us yesterday, and I'm still pissed off about that… but that wasn't your fault," she began. "I dragged you into my fight and you humored me. So… I guess it's my turn to thank you. Honestly, you're the first person in a long time that's let me be their Meister. Not trying to feed you a sob story or anything, but that's the way it is. In case you haven't noticed already, I don't exactly play well with others. I ran off two Weapons last year, so I sort of have a reputation as someone who's incompatible to work with, and really that's just fine by me. I am who I am. I'm not like other girls you'll meet here. I'm not into shopping or chasing boys or obsessing over which celebrities broke up or any of that crap. I don't wear frilly dresses with lace or sing bubblegum pop songs in the shower."

"This is me," she declared evenly, gesturing to her garbs. "What you see is what you get. And for a lot of people, _'this'_ scares them. I'm crude, sarcastic, have a dark sense of humor, love rock and metal, and have a short fuse. Not everyone knows how to handle things they don't understand… but you don't seem like them. So…I guess what I'm getting at with all this is that if you're interested, do you…do you want to take a shot at being my Weapon?"

Sitting upright in the infirmary bed, Shuvo showed no immediate sign of response, musing in quiet contemplation as he accumulated all the information that Mirika had thrown at him. It certainly was not a clear-cut decision to be made, as he thought about not only all that she had told him, but the mindful words that Bhante had left him with about his search for a partner. The conversation about seeking his compliment replayed within his head, wondering if the raging, stirring soul that stood beside him was the one that he should choose or if he should sample other potential candidates before making a definitive decision. Logic dictated the latter to his question, but he couldn't disregard the fact that the person who made the offer was watching and awaiting his answer.

"I'm not going to guilt trip you into anything," Mirika added. "If you say no, no harm no foul. Just as long as you're honest with me, that's enough."

What would someone as wise as Bhante do in a situation like this?

"There is a something that my teacher always told me that he believed was universal amongst all people," Shuvo began softly, casting his eyes downwards into his lap. "He would say that the first step on the pathway to wisdom and enlightenment began with honesty of the self. It is mindfulness of the truth of who we truly are in the present. And I can see that you hold this truth to heart. You are someone who is honest with herself and knows who she is, not who she has been. That is something that is reflected in your soul and something I can see is genuine. On top of honesty, you also have an admirable level of trust. Although we just met, you entrusted me enough to fight alongside you, and you trust me enough to give you a forward answer."

There was a slight pause in his words as he thought momentarily about the wisdom Bhante had left him with about being gentle in his words and decisive in his actions. With that, a small smile spread over him.

"So I have decided that I will accept your gracious offer."

Having given his definitive answer, the Weapon looked up to see the girl glaring at him with a look of irritability about her, pursing her painted lips in a slight scowl. With arms crossed across her chest, her demeanor was the exact opposite that he had expected it to be, leaving him wondering what in the world he had done this time to upset her.

"You know, a simple yes or no would have been alright," she finally replied. "I swear, you look like you're ten, but you talk like you're sixty. Now I'm already starting to have second thoughts about this if you're just going to lecture me with that wise old sage talk of yours all the time."

"I-I can stop it!" he stammered, a look of utter surprise and dejectedness coming over him. "I will not lecture you, I promise!"

But before he could even finish his sentence, the sadistic, genuine chuckle of the Meister drowned him out as her scowl was replaced by a knowing smirk.

"Damn, couldn't do that with a straight face," she confessed. "I swear, you're just too freakin' easy to mess with, Shuvo. Oh, this is gonna be fun."

"Are you always going to be this insistent on playing with my emotions?" the monk sighed in realization he had been duped again.

"Only until I get bored with it," Mirika replied casually. "But I guess I can lay off on the mind games for a while, at least until we get you all moved into your new place."

"My new place?"

"Crap, I forgot that you're still learning everything," the Meister realized, running her fingers through her tangled hair. "I guess nobody mentioned that normally Weapon and Meister partners live together. It's supposed to strengthen our bond and all that good stuff. We both get a housing stipend from the Academy, and I still have till the end of the month to renew on the place I'm renting. I figure if we both chipped in it would be cheaper for the two of us. There's a second room I'm using as a practice space right now, but we can move all my gear out and get your stuff moved in. That is, unless you would feel better just having your own place."

Shuvo hadn't realized that by agreeing to be Mirika's Weapon that he had also unknowingly agreed to share a living space with her as well. Although he would have his own room, the thought still unsettled him. Disregarding the fact that he had spent the greater majority of his life living in a highly structured, highly ceremonial religious temple, the idea that the Academy would willingly allow opposite genders to live in the same confined space with one another was extremely foreign to him.

But even still, if it was customary in order to strengthen the bond between partners, it would be difficult for him to argue otherwise. He would just have to be extra vigilant for the vices that he was supposed to keep on the lookout for while he was beginning his new life.

"No, that will not be necessary," he replied. "Once I have Miss Nygus' approval to leave, I would like to go get settled into our new home."


	6. Amassing Faction in the Sacrilege

Chapter 6: Amassing Faction in the Sacrilege: Even a Severed Serpent's Head Can Bite?

High in the mountains of an unknown land, the dead of night blanketed the rocky, jagged landscape in its somber embrace, concealing that which did not wish to be found. Between two rising peaks of the numerous jutting formations, the silhouette of a small town was barely visible against the voided sky, hidden by layers of thick mist that floated aimlessly by on the chilled winds that rolled through the darkness. If not for the shrouded scenery and the powerful spatial magic that kept the citadel that lay in the undisclosed realm from being revealed, one may have just been able to see the soft flickers of candlelight breaking through the many aged and worn window panes of the many conical-roofed buildings. And if one were to be fortunate enough to be able to enter the stronghold peacefully, they would find the archaic walls reverberating with the soft, blasphemous chorus of a spoken chant.

"Joma Joma Sutasia, Joma Joma Sutasia," a cloaked, levitating figure prompted to the congregation before her. Addressing her assembly with a low voice, she positioned herself commandingly against the backdrop of a monumental curved cross engraved with intricate runes.

"Joma Joma Sutasia," the Witches' Mass replied in unison, bowing their heads with their right hands placed over their hearts.

"As Grand Witch, I now declare this Witches' Mass open," Mabaa declared before hovering back down to ground level, landing as light as a feather upon the cobblestone below. "Please proceed with our discussion at hand, Kaiyo."

"Yes, Mabaa-sama," a younger, vixen-esque woman in a broad black and white kimono replied, tapping her slender pipe firmly against the stone pedestal before her, indicating that the floor now belonged to her. "Fellow witches, we are entering into what is possibly the most volatile paradigm shift in our history since the Heretic Witch created the Demon Weapons. The Spider Witch and her organization have been squashed like the traitorous insects they were, thus eliminating one of the many forces that opposed us. This we can say is a proven fact. However, that thorn in our side was only one of many that we are still fighting, and I am reluctant to say with any sort of certainty the fate of her younger kin. The Snake Witch always had a way of staying three steps ahead of her foes, and I have yet to see any evidence indicating that she has been truly eliminated. According to the various reports compiled by our intelligence, she was supposedly killed by that vile spawn of hers, although there are no credible eye witnesses to validate any claims. This information has come from none other than the shinigami's lap dogs, giving me no reason to believe any of them! As far as I am concerned, we should proceed under the assumption that Medusa Gorgon is still very much alive!"

Throughout the sanctuary, the murmuring of whispering voices could be heard questioning and debating if in fact Medusa Gorgon, the infamous witch who released the Kishin Asura, had truly cheated death once again.

"Objection!" a voice rang out from amongst the crowd of clamoring witches.

"Silence!" the Witch Judge barked, quickly bringing their attention back to her.

"Nyamu!" Mabaa protested, her one eye glaring at her subordinate in disapproval.

With piercing vixen eyes, the Kitsune Witch easily spotted the origin of the voice that threatened her authority.

"Kimial Diehl," she sneered in contempt for the pink-haired Tanuki Witch who stood out amongst the crowd, donned in her white and green Shibusen uniform with an identically dressed girl standing beside her. "Do not believe for even a second that your opinion holds any sway in the Witches' Mass anymore. You may be the shinigami's liaison and temptress, but your excommunication from the Coven still stands in my eyes. If it were not for our treaty, I would still have your death sentence carried out."

"Nyamu…" the Grand Witch warned lowly.

Seeing that her one and only superior was not at all pleased by her statement, Kaiyo Fox decided it best if she bit her tongue, at least in public for the time being. She certainly had not forgotten the way in which Diehl, along with the now leader of Shibusen, had challenged her during their trials in the Witches' Realm, and her disdain for the exiled teen still lingered fresh in her mind. Although the alliance that was formed as a result of said trials did have a significant impact in the battle upon the moon, the fact still remained that her burning hatred for anything and everything having to do with Shibusen would not be extinguished so easily. As far as she was concerned, it was only through the good graces of Mabaa-sama that the teen and her companions were even allowed to enter through the portal without being put to death one hundred times over.

"Come forth with your objection," the Judge stated irritably, reluctantly allowing the girl to speak.

Making her way silently past her once fellow witches, Kim strode slowly to the front, remaining on her toes despite her supposed diplomatic immunity. Although the situation was far different from her last visit to the Witches' Realm, she knew that there were still a large number of witches who didn't sit too well with the idea of being allied with the Grim Reaper.

The unfortunate misunderstanding that she had presumably bedded the new Lord Death as well didn't exactly help the circumstances either.

"You're right, Kaiyo, I'm not part of the Coven anymore," Kim stated, watching the Judge with wary emerald eyes. "And you can hate me all you want, but saying that Medusa is still alive just because you don't agree with the Academy's report is only hurting both of us. According to Meister Maka Albarn and Death Scythes Soul Eater and Spirit Albarn, the Demon Swordsman Crona told all three of them firsthand that they killed Medusa. You may not be convinced by this, but I know that they are all credible enough people. And Lord Death is thoroughly convinced himself that Medusa is finally gone for good. He has no reason to lie about something like that. What could the Academy possibly gain for covering anything up? We want to be sure she is dead just as badly as you do."

"Nyamu," Mabaa nodded in agreement.

From the Mass, the voices of the curious and uncertain witches rose up again in discourse.

"Silence!" the Judge cried again, slamming her pipe forcefully against the stone. "I will not put the Coven in any form of danger until I have definitive proof that Medusa is dead!"

"You're being unreasonable," Kim replied in disbelief. "If we're going to make any sort of progress with this alliance, we have to be willing to trust one another. I need the Coven to trust us that when we say our reports indicated that Crona killed Medusa, that you can believe us, and vise versa. This treaty is a two-way street. As far as Lord Death is concerned, Arachnophobia and Medusa are no longer of any threat, and we already have units on the lookout for any pockets of resistance that may try to rise up."

"Nyamu."

"Then tell me, Diehl, if the shinigami is so convinced that there are no more threats to be found between the Gorgon sisters and the Coven, just what are his concerns now?" the Judge questioned firmly, seeing that she wasn't going to get anywhere arguing about the matter with Mabaa-sama present. In her mind, only the Snake Witch's soul on a silver platter would be sufficient enough to make her believe the Shibusen dogs' reports. Although in a way she silently wished Medusa was still alive somewhere, only so that she take pleasure in personally sentencing her to death ten million times over herself.

"Lord Death's greatest threat is the same as yours," Kim replied. "Even though our battle on the moon was victorious, it was only because of the Demon Swordsman sealing the Kishin inside of its Black Blood. I know that both Lord Death and Grandmother Witch-sama have voiced concerns about what this means for the DWMA and the witches. Are either the Kishin or Crona still alive or are they dead? If they are still alive, how long would it be until they are released, if that is even possible? These are things we don't know. Lord Death has instructed me to ask the Coven specifically for your assistance in acquiring knowledge on the Black Blood in order to begin searching for some answers. He wants to understand just what it is we are all dealing with and how to prevent any potential consequences that may happen in the future. The very last thing any of us wants is the Kishin on the loose again."

Although the Witch Judge tried to save face in front of the shinigami's messenger, Mabaa-sama, and the rest of the witches, she had to silently admit that that was probably one of the very few things in the world that both she and Diehl could agree upon. The Kishin Asura was only sealed within the Black Blood, and it was true that the fates of both him and the Demon Swordsman were technically unknown. From her perspective, the number of unknown variables following their assistance to Shibusen was beginning to pile up, adding to her worry about what the future held in store for them.

The Kishin…Medusa…Crona…the Black Blood Moon…and Shibusen; none of them gave her any room to believe that the witches were any safer than they had been in the past, regardless of what others thought.

"Then tell the shinigami that the Coven has nothing to offer," Kaiyo replied bitterly. "He already has more knowledge of the Black Blood than we do. The vast majority of Medusa's research on the Black Blood was lost when she destroyed her own facility and anything that remains on it is locked away in Shibusen. The only one who could tell us what has happened to the Kishin and the Demon Swordsman would be Medusa herself."

"Who you believe is still alive?" Kim reaffirmed.

"Who I believe is a traitorous, cunning serpent who has an uncanny way of manipulating events to her advantage and who is known for having defied death on more than one occasion!" Kaiyo clarified angrily.

"Nyamu!" Mabaa interjected with a vexed tone, now directing her displeasure onto both the Tanuki and the Kitsune Witches.

To outsiders it was only a simple word spoken in a foreign tongue, but to a Witch the message was crystal clear in its demand that both of them quit their bickering because they were only perpetuating their argument.

"We are getting nowhere with this," the Judge grumbled, tapping her pipe. "I will leave this discussion open to further debate, as we have other matters to address."

Calling upon the name of a fellow witch, Kim was left standing before the podium as the next point on their agenda was brought to order. As Kaiyo deliberately ignored her glare, it was plain to see that for all of its commendation, the alliance between the DWMA and the Witches' Coven was at the moment only a shoddy bridge made of brittle glass.

* * *

"Joma Joma Dabarasa," Mabaa chanted lowly. "This Witches' Mass is now concluded. You are all dismissed."

"Joma Joma Dabarasa," the Coven echoed in reply, pulling their hoods over their faces as they began filing out from the sanctum of their gathering.

Striding purposefully with a quickened pace, Kim's elongated shadow danced off the stone walls as she led the exodus out the doors, determined to retreat from the Witches' Realm as quickly as possible. Trailing a little ways behind her, two more shadows followed suit, one much taller than the other.

"Let's get out of here, Jackie," she huffed. "We can wait to give Kid our report until after we're home."

"Right," the Demon Lantern confirmed, allowing her Meister her space after their first encounter with the Witches' Mass as representatives of the Academy. She could sense the cocktail of emotions brewing inside her partner's soul, namely frustration and anger, as they descended a winding spiral staircase down into its barely illuminated depths.

"Is that what it's always like with the witches?" the taller figure questioned from behind them curiously, stepping gingerly down the stone steps as she balanced the cumbersome load she carried with her.

"Miss Kaiyo is a meanie sometimes. She likes to yell at people, even though Grandmother Witch-sama doesn't like it when she does," a childish voice rang out, the passing glow of the torchlight revealing the figure of Angela Leon sitting atop the lithe shoulders of Tsubaki. Keeping one hand held onto the railing while the other held onto the dangling leg of the young Chameleon Witch, the outsider Weapon turned temporary escort watched her footing as they made their way down.

"Kaiyo is a big obstacle, but she's only part of the problem. I've got my work cut out for me, that's for sure," Kim stated somewhat dejectedly. "I knew this wasn't going to be easy from the get-go, but I feel like I'm just talking to a wall. Only a handful of the witches are willing to cooperate with the Academy on making any kind of plans for the future. As for the rest of them, they're not interested at all in trying to coexist. All they're doing is using the treaty as a shield to protect themselves."

Reaching the bottom of the stairwell, the Shibusen entourage emerged into the thick silver mist that blanketed the Witches' Realm. Signs and neon lights of various sorts shone through the haze, playing off the veil eerily.

"You'll get through to them, I'm sure of it," Jacqueline reassured. "At least you and Kid have Mabaa on board. She can talk some sense into them."

"That's true, but I don't know if even that's going to be enough to sway some of them," Kim countered with a sigh.

Although she wasn't a witch herself, the Demon Lantern had been exposed to enough of them to gain more than her fair understanding of the true hatred that the majority of the Coven, particularly the older Witches, had for the old Lord Death and the Academy. Even though a new successor had been crowned, the centuries upon centuries of accumulated hatred wasn't going to be forgotten so easily by either side. And it was up to her Meister to almost single-handedly convince them to agree upon even the most trivial of things.

All Kim could do was lead the stubborn, bigoted horses to water. She couldn't make them drink.

* * *

"Well, here we are. Home sweet home," Mirika announced as the clicking of the lock and the squeaking of the door gave way to the shadowy expanse within. "I've gotta warn you though, it's a little dirty."

Throwing the switches on the side wall, artificial light flooded the apartment, revealing its contents to both its current and newly-found occupants. The floor plan was laid out rather spaciously, with a short entranceway that gave way to a furnished living room straight ahead of them and a fair sized kitchen in the corner to the right. Off to the left, an open doorway led into a hallway that reached towards the back wall, revealing a series of doors that led to the two bedrooms and bathroom.

However, "a little dirty" was somewhat of an understatement for the condition of the living quarters that Shuvo now stared at with a wide-eyed aversion. He had never realized it before, but he now felt himself suddenly becoming self-conscious about his feet being bare as he stood at the threshold to his new home. Boxes of various food snacks and to-go plates lay strewn about the cluttered dining table and countertops, many of them empty and giving off a mildly rotten odor. A mountain of dirty dishes was piled in the overflowing sink, neglected and disorganized in their chaotic array, while in the living room, piles of wrinkled clothes and unfolded laundry were thrown haphazardly over the tops of the chairs and the plush couch. Notebooks and various papers of schoolwork from the previous year remained neglected in a dusty stack on the coffee table, surrounded on all sides by empty or half-empty soda cans. Against a side wall was a wooden stand with a television set sitting atop it, beside which were two bookshelves filled to the brim with a myriad of small, multi-colored plastic cases and many larger square folders.

"Yeah…kinda wasn't expecting anyone to visit anytime soon," the Meister stated, setting her case off to the side before plopping down in one of the clothing-covered chairs and beginning to unlace her boots. "Come on in, make yourself at home. It's not really much, but it's comfortable once you get used to it."

It was only upon the invitation that the Weapon realized that he had not yet moved from his spot outside the doorway, watching everything from the false sense of security that remaining in the hallway gave him. Not wishing to be a discourteous guest, or rather partner, he made his way tentatively into the confines of the third story apartment, shuffling awkwardly into the heart of the disaster zone. Standing uneasily beside the television, his eyes shifted about the room, taking it all in with a slight fidget. For a brief moment, he had to quickly avert his attention from the fact that her undergarments were exposed out in the open. Saying a silent mantra, he needed a few seconds to clear his thoughts from the sight.

"Dude, just chill out," Mirika said, kicking off her boots and tossing them off to the side without a care. "Nothing's gonna bite you. Just relax."

Heeding the girl's advice, Shuvo mentally forced himself to calm his anxious nerves down, feeling his muscles slacken as he did so. It was only a living space, he reminded himself. Yes, it was far beyond any level of discord than he was comfortable with, but all it really needed was a day, or possibly two, of diligent cleaning and it would be presentable once again. If one looked past the surface of dust, dirty clothing, and debris, it really was a nice home. The décor and furnishings looked fairly new, and there was even a sliding glass door that led onto a small balcony outside.

Walking with careful steps around the coffee table, his gaze came across a dark wooden box around one foot on all sides sitting atop another shelf in the corner of the room. On the front face of the box were a series of knobs and buttons, while two holes covered in tweed were cut on either side. From the looks of it, Shuvo deducted it was an antique radio, although it didn't appear like one that he had ever seen before in any book.

As though to answer his question, the glass display on the face lit up in a neon blue, followed by the sounds of something mechanical moving inside. Pressing his face closer in intrigue, he was met with a deafening blast of compressed air, followed suit by the thunderous banging of rolling drums and a wailing, screeching falsetto voice that could shatter windows.

Rearing back in surprise, Shuvo practically tripped over himself as he clamped his hands over his ears to drown out the sound. A pure expression of shock spread over him as he involuntarily yelped out, dropping his burlap bag on the floor as he leapt back several feet. Only when the volume of the sound dropped down to a tolerable level did he feel it was safe to uncover. Removing his hands, the box belted out its song quietly as Mirika lay sprawled out on the couch with a remote in hand, suppressing her malicious amusement.

"Skittish, aren't you?" Mirika snickered.

"Yes, for good reason! W-what is that?!" the frightened monk gasped, pointing his finger at the box as he calmed his involuntary shaking.

"That? That's Screaming Vengeance," she replied with a proud smirk, rising from the couch to open the lid on the mahogany box, revealing a black vinyl record within spinning about its carousel. "They're an older band now, but they were one of the pioneers of heavy metal back in the day."

"Screaming…Vengeance?" Shuvo repeated quizzically. "Heavy metal? I do not understand what these things are."

"You don't know what heavy metal is?!" the girl snorted. "You been living under a rock or something your whole life, or what?!"

Her amusement was quickly dampened as she saw the mild look that the innocent boy gave, a slight smile appearing in spite of his ignorance of the subject matters at hand.

"Oh…you're actually serious," she deducted, lifting the needle gingerly off the record and placing the album neatly back in its sleeve. "Well you'll come to love it if you stick around with me long enough."

"I am not so sure about that," the khakkhara forced with a small laugh.

Sifting through her arrangement of records and CDs, she filed the album away in its appropriate spot, leaving Shuvo to stare at the wide varieties that the girl had in her possession. He had not even the slightest clue as to what kinds of music and messages lay inside those cases, but if they were all like the sound he had just experienced, it was going to be a difficult time finding inner tranquility.

"So…what kind of bands are you into?" Mirika questioned, seeing how the Weapon had taken a sudden interest in her music collection. Slipping her jacket off, she tossed it to the side as well, revealing her black and blue striped undershirt.

"I do not listen to music," Shuvo replied evenly. "It is against the Seventh Precept. Our ceremonial chants are the closest thing we have to any form of music."

"The Seventh what?" she wondered with a slight irritation in her tone. "And what do you mean you don't listen to music?!"

"The Seventh Precept," the monk explained. "It discourages, and in some cases expressly forbids monks from participating in entertainment, such as dancing or music. We do this so that there are no distractions available to us that could hinder our spiritual journey."

"You're kidding me?!" Mirika stated in disbelief, as though she had just heard the most blasphemous words ever spoken. "That honestly sounds like the crappiest thing I've ever heard of! And you're seriously alright with that? What other wacky rules do you have to follow?"

"It is part of being a monk, so yes, I am alright with it," Shuvo answered frankly. "And we follow a series of rather stringent guidelines, called the Ten Precepts. They are not technically laws, and each monastery follows them differently, but they are general practices that are upheld to strengthen and purify one's wholeness, morality, and spiritual awareness. They mostly cover basic topics that seem simple at first glance, but are actually difficult to uphold, such as killing, lying, and stealing."

"And so one of your rules is you can't have any fun whatsoever," the Meister concluded harshly, laying back and stretching out on the couch, propping her hands behind her head. "Well it seems like we're already at a confliction of interests then. For me, guitar is pretty much my life. Anything from the old school river delta blues to the underground bands almost nobody's heard of, and everything in between. So if you're not even allowed to listen to music, we've already got ourselves a pretty big monkey wrench thrown into the gears from the start."

It appeared that there was yet another factor coming into play that could potentially become a cause for future problems, Shuvo reasoned silently. He understood that he was indeed not back at the temple, where everything was regulated and comfortable in its habituation, and he had been encouraged to keep an open mind about the natures of the outside world, but this was already starting to become a little bit more than he had bargained for. He had already allowed himself to be dragged into a fight he had no business in, even if he did meet Mirika in the process. But to him, maintaining his training as a srāmanera was just as important as his soon to be training as a Shibusen Weapon. How he was going to find a way to successfully balance the two was going to be quite the challenge.

"I apologize," he said somberly. "I know my lifestyle and beliefs are foreign and cumbersome to you, but I cannot do anything to change them. I would like it if we could compromise on our conflictions. I do not want us to be incompatible already."

From her position upon the clothing-covered couch, Mirika gave an even, analytical glare as she listened to Shuvo's apology. The majority of her remained baffled by the Weapon and his choice in lifestyle, although she realized she herself was hardly one to talk. The other part of her was just getting annoyed that the kid felt the need to say he was sorry for every little thing he did.

"Shuvo, anyone ever tell you that you apologize way too much?" she stated casually, stifling an oncoming yawn. "Look, I get it; you're a weird dude and you have your own way of doing things, and I'm cool with that. If you can't, or don't want to do certain things, I'm not going to hold a gun to your head and force you to do them. Personally, I don't understand a lot of these rules of yours and I think some of them sound pretty dumb, but if they're important to you, I'm not going to fight it."

"Do you mean that?" Shuvo asked with a wide-eyed appreciation.

"Yeah," she replied. "One thing you'll learn pretty quickly here at the DWMA is that we're all weird in our own way. We've all got some kind of quirk that others just don't understand, but we put up with them anyways. So for me to say that your weirdness is weirder than my weirdness is just plain weird."

Something about the statement gave a moment of relief to the khakkhara, and he smiled in thankfulness for her words. Perhaps it was the fact that everything around him was so new, and indeed frightening to a degree, or the fact that he was still recovering from his accumulated exhaustion, but ever since he had set forth on his journey from the mountains, he had felt the always present combination of joyful anticipation and nervous anxiety. He admitted that he was indeed a stranger in a strange land, although no stranger than those around him. Everyone had their lifestyles and their tendencies, so for the Meister to help him rediscover that fact was something that put him more at ease.

"Well I guess I should show you to your room," she yawned, making a semi-dramatic effort of lifting herself from her reclined position.

Following her lead through the side hallway, she opened a door at the far right end and threw the switch, revealing that the room was sizable, although not overly spacious, and seemed to be in better maintenance than the rest of the apartment. There was a desk and small dresser propped against one of the walls, and the frame and mattress of the bed had been pushed into a corner to clear more space. A small door off to the side led to an empty closet space. Snaking around the floor were a series of black cables that led to a variety of metal boxes on the floor, which subsequently led to a large orange speaker box with a smaller black box sitting on top of it. Upon the yellow and red painted walls were a variety of posters of different musical acts, some appearing quite old and faded while others looked fairly new.

"Hope you don't mind my gear for one night," she said, moving the metal boxes from the floor and shifting them out of the way for them to walk. "I can get it all cleared out tomorrow so we can get the rest of your stuff moved in. Gonna be a pain to figure out where to put it all now, but it's alright."

"I will be alright," Shuvo said, setting his bag on the desk. "And this is all I possess. I do not have anything else to bring in."

"That's it?" Mirika questioned, seeing the one measly burlap sack that he carried with him. "You don't have anything else? No clothes or anything?"

"No, this is all I have. I try to live as minimal of a lifestyle as I can."

A resounding groan escaped the white-haired girl as she rubbed her eyes tiredly.

"Well then, it looks like I'm taking you shopping tomorrow," she grumbled. "Not exactly on my list of things to do, but you're gonna need more than that."

"I would like that very much," the Weapon replied.

"Alright then, I'll catch you in the morning because I'm fading over here. We'll get you all set up and ready to rock tomorrow. Later."

Trudging out the door, she threw the same half-hearted gesture that he had seen her give when she had departed the Shibusen infirmary.

"Seriously, how can someone who only has one bag and one set of clothes be such a pain in my ass?" she called out in jest from the hallway before retreating into the darkened confines of her own room.

"Goodnight to you as well, Mirika," Shuvo chuckled, bowing towards the closing door. "And thank you."

* * *

Moving without rush in the heavy mist towards the barrier of the Witches' Realm, two hooded figures traveled away from the gathering place of the Mass, deliberating in their own silence the proclamations made that evening by the Grand Witch and the Coven. The nights on the earth were now nearly pitch black due in part to the onyx orb that stood in place for the once lux yellow moon, making their journey all the more cumbersome, but hiding their faces beneath their covers.

"I don't like this at all," the tenor voice of a younger man stated as the pair walked along, passing beneath the high canopy of the outlying mountain forests. "Shibusen is just using this peace treaty to make a power grab and Mabaa-sama is letting them do it right under our noses. Even though I respect her as the Grand Witch, I honestly think she's starting to lose her sanity."

"I agree," a second, feminine voice spoke. "Although I can't say her decision to help seal away the Kishin was unwise, I'm afraid she may not be fully sane enough to fulfill her position as our leader for much longer. With Mabaa-sama at the helm, I believe that she is going to let the Coven be swallowed up by Shibusen. It's not a matter of if we are going to, but only a matter of when. Our race is going to fade into obscurity if this is allowed to continue."

"Shibusen won't destroy us with their Meisters and their Demon Weapons, though. Not with this treaty in place," the man reasoned. "They'll do it slowly from the inside out. That's why they made Diehl into their envoy. They'll get inside our heads and try to integrate us into their system. So really the only thing this treaty has done has turned it from a game of hide and seek into a war of attrition. All they have to do is wait it out and chip away at us bit by bit until we fall apart."

"I agree completely, Orobo."

Passing from the edge of the tree line that led through a clearing, the mist dissipated slightly as the travelers made their way through the grassy field.

"You know, as much as I detest that loudmouth Kaiyo, I think she did get one thing right tonight," the figure sighed as she stared up at the circular void that filled the sky.

"What was that, Lady Brize?"

"There is going to be a shift in our paradigm," she replied coolly. "And it will be volatile."

* * *

**Author's Notes: So there are a few things in this chapter I would like to point out, because I did take a few creative liberties with it. The first one is that it is never really explained in either the manga or the anime what goes on in a Witches' Mass. I sort of imagined it to be like a counsel meeting. The second is my take on the phrase "Joma Joma Sutasia". In the manga, "Joma Joma Dabarasa" is used to denote "goodbye", but in the anime it is used also as a greeting. This is a mistake on the anime's part. The manga footnotes explain that "dabarasa" is derived from the backwards form of the Japanese word for "goodbye", so for all intents and purposes, I'm using the backwards form of "aisatsu" to denote the greeting. Nit-picky? Yes, but I like to keep my stories detailed. **

**Also I took a creative liberty with the Witch Judge, who really only has one significant scene in the manga. Her name is never given, but I have decided to help make things easy and give her one. My name for her is Kaiyo Fox the Kitsune Witch. Kaiyo is literally translated as "forgiveness", which I believe is ironic for her personality. As for Mabaa, please don't crucify me for using a variety of names for her. Its hard to tell from the manga, but she goes by Maba, Mabaa, Mabaa-sama, Grandmother Witch-sama, and Grand Witch. I try to match them up as I see fit, but I've never really written using honorifics. Also, Mabaa only seems to speak at the beginning and end of a Mass. Everything else in between is just "Nyamu".**

**And that's it for now. **

**K.K. **


	7. Living Legends Amongst Us

Chapter 7: Living Legends Amongst Us: The Only Easy Day Was Yesterday?

"Soul… time to get up," Maka announced softly as she cracked the door to the Death Scythe's room ever so slightly. "It's our big day."

A throaty, snoring grumble rose out in subconscious response to her cheerful tone as the sheets to the young man's bed were ruffled. Tossing and turning, he appeared to be semi-responsive, but also defiant to stay beneath the comfort of his blanket for as long as absolutely possible.

"C'mon, Soul," she tried again, flooding the room with light from the hallway as she ventured farther in, revealing the apron she wore over a light yellow tank top and pink shorts. "I've already got breakfast going and we need to make sure that we're extra early today. Go get showered while I finish up. I need to get ready too, you know."

Whether his brain still hadn't regained complete comprehension of her words or if he was merely trying to prolong his comfort before the long, and no doubt, hectic day ahead of them, she didn't know. What she did know was that he was at least awake and his attempt at a reply was nothing more than an incoherent mutter.

"Soul," she commanded, turning the overhead lights on and shaking the mattress forcefully.

"Don't wanna," he mumbled through his pillow, turning over to face his back to the obnoxious light that filled the room. "Ten minutes."

"Soul Eater Evans, I am not doing this today," the Meister stated sternly, resting her hands on her hips and resisting the ever-growing temptation to Maka Chop him for his childish attitude. "Get out of bed right now and start getting ready."

His groan of extreme displeasure filled the apartment, clearly hell-bent on annoying the sandy blonde to no end before the sun was even in the sky. However, it also seemed to serve as a cry of desperation for the third occupant of the apartment.

Before she had even realized it, Maka caught the sight of a barely covered derrière beneath a sheer purple nightgown responding to the call for help.

"Blair! Wait!" the Scythe Meister cried too little too late as the buxom magical feline bounded happily into the room, jumping headlong onto the unsuspecting Weapon's mattress.

"No, don't take my big, strong scythey boy away from me!" she half wailed, half giggled as she pulled her unsuspecting victim's head between her voluptuous chest. "If he doesn't wanna go, he shouldn't have to! He can stay here with me all day! I know all sorts of fun things we can do!"

All senses were now on high alert for Soul as he struggled to get the unwelcome wake-up call off of him, his protests muffled by the fleshy globes that were currently in the process of suffocating him.

"Crazy cat!" he managed to shout, gasping for air as he fought to free himself from Blair's embrace before he passed out from a nosebleed. "Maka! Help!"

Had it been almost a year prior when the frisky kitten had more or less adopted herself into their home, the Albarn legacy would have responded to the scene with either a Maka Chop to the top of the skull or a foot to the face. But as time passed by, the routine became almost second nature between the three of them and all she could really do now was just sigh in defeat and let the situation handle itself. She knew by now that even though Soul was a normal teenage guy complete with a perverted mind, he genuinely disliked it when Blair played her games with him. On that same token, she knew that for all of Blair's unwanted seductions, she really meant nothing by it. Soul was nothing more than a source of temporary entertainment to her, although that didn't make the experience any less troublesome.

"Blair, let Soul go," Maka instructed exhaustively. "We need to get ready."

"Oh, no fair," the assailant pouted, disappointed that her fun was over for the time being. Releasing her hold on the young man, his head lolled back droopily in her arms as twin trails of blood ran from his nose down onto his chin.

"Nahbrah… nahbrah," he murmured barely above a whisper with eyes rolled to the back of his head.

"You alright there, Soul?" Blair questioned with an inquisitive smile. "I can't hear what you're saying."

"Nahbrah…" he repeated just a little bit louder.

"I think you fried that peabrain of his, Blair," Maka answered flatly. "Now let's go, Soul. I'm not going to tell you again. If you're late for your first day of class then don't blame me."

Coming to from his dazed and confused state, the Death Scythe wiped his nosebleed off on his bare arm before giving a tiresome push to remove Blair from him. Trudging past the two women out of the room and into the bathroom, the sound of rushing water was heard as he prepared for the day ahead.

"That stupid cat's gonna be the death of me," he spoke to his reflection in the mirror. "Can't even wear a bra."

* * *

The clock on the wall read ten minutes before seven as the soft creaking of a door was opened and footsteps were heard approaching the living room where Soul sat impatiently on the couch, awaiting the arrival of his partner.

"She badgers me about being late and she's just now done getting dressed?" he griped to himself.

A soft cough from the hallway entrance grabbed his attention as he turned to see Maka standing at the threshold bashfully. A look of surprise spread over him as he saw that she was no longer donned in her standard attire of a red plaid skirt, white shirt, green striped tie, black buckle boots, and black trench coat that he was normally accustomed to. In their place she now wore a slimming light grey dress blouse flared out at the wrists covered by a black corset style vest with white pinstripes, along with an emerald green plaid skirt. Her regular combat boots were now replaced by functionally designer ones of a sleek black, rising up to her shins and giving her an inch or two of lift with their small heels.

Wrapping the whole outfit together was an emerald string tied into a loose bow around her neck like a professionally cute Christmas present.

"So…" she began, diverting her gaze to the tile floor below; a light blush appearing on her cheeks. "Do you like it? Liz and Tsubaki helped me pick it out."

Standing up from the couch, the Death Scythe had to consciously remind himself not to stare too hard at the newly transformed Maka. The changes weren't terribly dramatic, but the new attire gave her the aura of someone who was more accomplished and confident in herself than the Meister he had known for so long. It was professional without being white-collar and carried that underlying signature that it was still her beneath it all. In a way, the person standing before him was and wasn't Maka Albarn.

"It looks great," he complimented coolly, noticing how she had finally ditched the pigtails, letting her hair flow down naturally and curled her bangs slightly. "What brought this about?"

"I guess I just wanted to feel like I'm ready for the next chapter. You know, like I'm ready to leave the younger me behind and get ready for the new one," she replied with a smile, grinding the toe of her new footwear onto the tile in a nervous tick. "So I let Liz and Tsubaki talk me into trying something different."

"Well, it's definitely different, but in a good way," he remarked.

Glad to know that Soul approved of her new look, it was her turn to take notice of the Death Scythe's own attire. Approaching him curiously, her face became neutral as she looked at his selection of clothing.

"Your Black Room suit," she said softly, at a slight loss of words for the tailored crimson shirt, black tie, dress shoes, and pinstripe jacket and pants. "It's… real. Why?"

Adjusting his silken tie smartly, a toothy smirk appeared as he thought about why he had decided to go out and have the outfit that only existed within the maddened depths of the Black Blood custom made for him.

"Guess I just wanted to feel like I'm ready for the next chapter too," he replied coolly, tucking his hands in his pockets. "Kid said that if I'm going to be a Death Scythe, I need to at least look the part. Plus, I look pretty cool in it if I do say so myself."

It had been almost four months since Maka had seen Soul in that particular getup, the last time being in their battle on the moon. It brought back a snippet of all those memories and emotions that had followed in the wake of the victory, and she silently understood why he felt compelled to wear it. It was his gesture of defiance to all that had happened to the two of them, telling the world that he wouldn't bow down before the madness of the Black Blood so easily. He was in control now.

"Well you do look very handsome," she smiled, moving his tie back so that it was centered and straightening his lapels. "But we need to get going if we want to make it before the students."

Nodding in confirmation, they gathered their things before heading out the door, ready to face the challenges that awaited their new-found positions as faculty in training.

* * *

Ascending the lengthy steps of the Academy onwards into the exciting unknown, Shuvo turned his head around and slowed his pace down momentarily in order to allow Mirika to catch up to his position. With her case in tow strapped around her left shoulder, the Meister was in no particular hurry to reach their homeroom, taking her sweet time as she moved with heavy boots up the white stone staircase. All around them, seasoned and rookie students alike went by, each of them with either a radiance of complete excitement or complete anxiety.

The khakkhara was at the moment in the former group, trying everything in his power to not just leave the dual-eyed girl in the dust, although he reasoned that it would most certainly be best if he stuck close to her for the day. She obviously knew the routine and would help him avoid any unflattering first year mistakes. And she had already helped him greatly over the previous weekend, where she had been gracious enough to buy him breakfast, as he could only eat in the mornings that which was given to him out of charity. After the early morning fast food meal, she then took the Weapon to purchase the essentials he would need for the upcoming year, namely school supplies and toiletries, making a fuss over the trip and chiding him with smart aleck comments at every turn. However, they eventually walked away with the tools that he required.

Taking notice of the condition of the old burlap sack he attempted to carry everything around in, she even took him into a store specializing in various forms of backpacks, which turned out to be a mistake on her part. So insistent was the boy on saying that he was content with the dirty bag that he wouldn't give any feedback whatsoever on anything more durable she pointed out. But despite all his politeness and sage talk about coveting, Mirika could see his chocolate eyes wandering every now and then towards a beautifully stitched satchel of a deep burgundy with brass clasps that hung on a rack near the shop window. Knowing that the monk had already spent the majority of what little money he had brought with him on the essentials, she inquired one of the saleswomen anyways on the price. After hearing that it was on a promotional sale for the start of the semester, money exchanged hands and the Meister presented it to Shuvo unceremoniously, citing something along the lines of "pain in the ass, but worth it."

She never wanted to be bowed to and thanked that many times again in her life. Although in all fairness, in exchange for the gesture she awoke the following morning to find the Weapon hard at work scrubbing dishes, dusting every surface, and compiling the debris into trash bags. He insisted that that with the exception of her own clothing, he would gladly clean the apartment from head to toe by himself. By the end of the day on the following Sunday, Mirika could only stare in amazement at the transformation of their home from only twenty-four hours prior.

Maybe the little cueball wasn't so useless after all. At least he earned his keep.

Said satchel was now slung around his shoulder, bouncing freely against his hip as his lowered paced gave the teenage girl room to gain some ground.

"Jeez, remind me to stop by the pet store and get you a leash," she remarked, finally catching up to the Weapon as their steps fell in rhythm again. "I'm not gonna be able to take my eyes off you for a second, am I? Although I guess it wouldn't be that hard to track you down. Just gotta look for the only blob of orange in a ten mile radius."

"I apologize, but I have been dreaming of this day ever since I discovered I was a Weapon," he replied, beaming ear to ear. "I consider it a true blessing to be surrounded by such highly esteemed people."

"Yeah, well you might want to keep on dreaming then," Mirika commented as they at last made it to the top of the grand structure and into the entry plaza.

Stopping before the towering architecture of Death Skulls and giant candles, Mirika craned her neck upwards towards one of the jutting spires, watching it with a keen interest. Noticing that she had halted in her tracks, Shuvo turned around to gaze up as well.

"What are you looking at, Mirika?" he inquired.

"Huh, that's weird. Guess he's not here," she commented after a few moments of observation before making her way inside.

"Who is not here?" Shuvo wondered as they passed the grand portrait of the old Lord Death and into the inner halls of the Academy.

"If you see him, you'll know who I'm talking about," she answered cryptically. "Let's just say he likes to stand out."

Cocking a questionable brow, Shuvo didn't press the matter any further as he followed Mirika through the halls and up a flight up stairs. With his head on a swivel, he couldn't help but notice all the other people his own age, wondering what they were like and if he would be able to befriend any of them in the future.

Coming upon a large gathering of students, he noticed that they were crowded around a large black board with a variety of tags hanging on pins.

"What are they doing?" he wondered aloud.

"They're checking up on the Missions Board," Mirika answered frankly, as though she could really care less about what the students were engaged in at the moment. "That's where Lord Death puts the names of the evil humans, monsters, and Kishin eggs from his list that we're supposed to go collect. Right now the pickins look pretty slim, so there's not much to go around. Last year was way different, especially when the Kishin got released. Evil souls were popping up like mad and the Academy could barely keep up with them."

"Will we be going on any missions soon?" he asked as they brushed their way past the crowd and into the less densely populated hall behind them.

His question went unanswered as the pair came upon a door on the right side of the hallway, illuminated by the glow of the sun that filtered in through the series of windows on the left. Above the door was a brass sign depicting half of the laughing sun outside and various metal bands of light jutting outwards. Below the artistry in scrolling gothic characters were the words "Class Rising Sun".

"Let's just focus on one thing at a time for now," she said, opening the door and striding in purposefully.

Following her lead, they came into a sizable semi-circular amphitheater-like classroom with a podium and blackboard against the near wall and four rows of seats leading upwards around the back. With ten minutes until class began, the seats already appeared to be halfway filled as other students filed in behind them and the other door, prompting the two to find suitable ones before they were all taken.

"There are open spots in the front ro…" Shuvo pointed out, only to see Mirika claiming the aisle seat on the higher third row, slipping her case off of her shoulder and placing it protectively by her side as she lifted her boots onto the desktop with a thunk. Leaning back slightly, she shut her eyes apathetically.

"Nevermind…," he sighed to himself. "It seems you have already made yourself comfortable."

Making his way beside her, he couldn't help but notice more than a few glancing stares as he shuffled past her reclined form and took the seat next to her. Many of them seemed to come from students slightly younger than he was, although there were a fair share of those his own age and even a few who appeared older. Disregarding their looks as nothing more than innocent curiosity, he reached into his satchel and produced a notebook and pencil in preparation for the day. Ready to tackle his first day of classes, he patiently awaited the arrival of the instructor, who he secretly hoped would be someone just like Bhante, although he highly doubted the realistic possibilities of such a thing happening. Regardless, he was adamant to make a positive new impression on the person who he would be gaining his knowledge from.

An odd sensation came over him briefly as he felt his actions being watched. Whether it was his Soul Perception acting up or just his gut intuition, he couldn't say for certain, but he nevertheless felt like he was being monitored intensely by someone or something.

Swiveling his head around, his suspicions were quickly confirmed by a set of bubblegum pink orbs in the row behind him that retreated in embarrassment behind a book, leaving only a crest of lavender-hued hair peeking over the top. Seeing this, Shuvo took the initiative in his overly eager way to engage in polite conversation.

"Namaste," he greeted brightly, bringing his hands together in the traditional gesture. "Good morning to you, Miss."

Realizing that she had been spotted, the protective barrier of the book was lowered shyly to reveal a younger girl around the age of nine with straight, shoulder length lavender hair and a red headband with a Death Skull clip running behind her ears. Dressed in the standard green and white Shibusen sailor's uniform, her rosy eyes looked back at him through a pair of rounded, thin-rimmed glasses.

"Oh-Ohayou gozaimasu," she replied timidly, returning the bow politely from her seat. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare. Please forgive my rudeness, Noble One."

Hearing her apologize so formally and sincerely, Shuvo was taken aback momentarily by her use of the respectful title, not having been used to anyone referring to him in such a manner since his arrival in the West.

"Oh no, I am no Noble One," the Weapon answered humbly. "And it is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Shuvo Bhakta and this is my partner, Mirika Amesdale."

Gesturing to the inattentive girl, his expression quickly turned to one of mild embarrassment for the Meister's disinterested behavior. The least she could do would be to make some form of acknowledgement, he thought. Although he could hardly say he was surprised by her actions.

"I am sure she is thrilled to meet you as well," he deadpanned. "May I ask your name?"

A rosiness the same hue as her eyes flooded the young girl's cheeks at the simple inquiry.

"I-I'm Yumi," she answered meekly. "Arisaka Yumi."

"That is a nice name," Shuvo complimented. "Is it your first day as well?"

"Y-yes," she stuttered, clearly trying to get over her jittery fit. "I-I'm sorry, I'm just very nervous right now."

"That is understandable. I think we all are at least a little bit," the monk reassured before glancing at Mirika's relaxed form. "Well, at least most of us are. I would not worry too much though."

From the loudspeaker above them, the distinctive eight note ringing of the bell halted their conversation for the time being as the door to the classroom opened up to the arrival of three older figures who made their way to the center of the checker-tiled room. The first was a lithe, black-haired woman in her late teens dressed in a long cream dress with a slit running from her hip, exposing her stocking covered right leg and white boots. A large gold star was embroidered over her shapely right breast, which drew the attention of more than a few of the boys in the room, and her neck was wrapped in a long black scarf.

Beside her stood a smartly dressed albino teen in a black pinstripe suit, complete with a crimson shirt and black silk tie. His face was calm and collected as he gazed out amongst the N.O.T. students, analyzing them silently.

The amphitheater was quickly filled with the hushed whispers and soft squeals of the name "Soul" and "Death Scythe", giving Shuvo a good assumption that this was the same one whose name had been called out during the opening ceremony.

The last one to join them was an older gentleman around his early thirties with chestnut hair slickly parted to his right side. His stature was rather average, standing taller than the young man but shorter than the woman, and he dressed plainly in a pressed white collared shirt, matching khaki-colored tweed jacket and pants, a hunter green bow tie, and a small Death Skull pin upon his left lapel. Upon first glance for the students, he looked like the most boring and normal of anyone at the Academy thus far, all things considered that is. However, like everything at the DWMA, nothing was ever ordinary within Lord Death's walls.

Around the man's face were two mirrored sacred eye tattoos while the middle of his forehead was an elaborate pyramid depicting the image of the wicked crescent moon running through the top. Although covered by the collar of his shirt, it could be seen that elaborate images of skeletons, multi-sided stars, and ancient hieroglyphs were inked into his skin beginning at his neck and moving downwards, even visible on his hands.

"Where's Sid?" Shuvo could hear Mirika whisper silently to herself.

"Good morning class," the strange man greeted courteously with a raised voice, noticing the mixed reactions of his audience. "As the newest additions to this fine institution, it's my pleasure to welcome you to the Academy and to the N.O.T. course. I'm Professor Aleister Craftlove, and I have the distinction of being your homeroom teacher for this year. I'm sure many of you don't recognize me, as I was recently transferred from the DWMA's European Division, although I look forward to working with all of you Meisters and Weapons. As this is a basic introductory class, we will be covering topics that will help get you acquainted with what it means to be a member of the DWMA, such as History of the Academy, History of Witches and Kishin, the Science of Souls, and Basic Team Building. These will all be taught alongside a standard curriculum of mathematics, language arts, physical fitness, and other topics."

Taking a moment to clear his throat, he gestured towards the two people standing to his left.

"I would like to take a moment to direct you to your two teaching assistants for the year. I know many of you are already familiar with them, but I think it would be best if they introduced themselves."

Taking a small step forward, the older woman addressed the class first. She had a very kind smile that seemed to put those on edge more at ease.

"Hello everyone," she greeted in a warm, friendly tone. "I'm Nakatsukasa Tsubaki, but you can just call me Miss Tsubaki. I'm a Two Star Shadow Demon Arms Weapon and my Meister is Black Star. I'm really looking forward to getting to know all of you. If you ever need any help with anything you can always come talk to me anytime."

Stepping back, she traded places with the suited white-haired teen, whose demeanor was far more impartial than his associate's.

"I'm Death Scythe Soul Eater," he addressed smoothly, disregarding the swooning of the female students as he spoke. "I'm one of Lord Death's personal Weapons, but I'm also partners with Maka Albarn. You can just call me Mister Soul or Mister Death Scythe; either is fine with me. I'm not too picky on formalities. I'll try to help you out with whatever you need as well."

Saying all he really wanted to, the Death Scythe gave the floor back to the marked instructor with a simple nod.

"Very good," Professor Craftlove stated, pulling out a clipboard from his desk. "Now I suppose we should move onto roll. Let's see, first up we have…Amesdale. Mirika Amesdale, where are you?"

From her reclined position, the Meister raised her hand lazily.

"Right here, Teach," she called out.

"Miss Amesdale, feet off the desk please," Craftlove requested. "And please address me as 'Professor' in the future, thank you."

"Gotcha," the girl replied, showing no indication of moving from her position.

Seeing that the first name on his list was already going to be a rebellious one, Craftlove turned to his teaching aid for assistance.

"Miss Tsubaki, may I borrow one of your shiruken please?" he implored.

"Umm… yes, Professor," she replied hesitantly, unsure of just what a teacher would need one of her throwing stars for. Reaching into her pocket, she produced one of the four-sided blades and handed it over to the tattooed man.

"Thank you, Miss Tsubaki," he said before quickly launching the star in one fluid motion. Whizzing through the air over the students' heads, the shiruken embedded itself in the wood of the fourth row desks, mere inches away from Mirika's head.

"Huh, not bad considering I've never done that before," the man commented to himself.

With jaws agape and eyes bugged-out, the students and teaching assistants alike were left speechless by the sudden action. Only Mirika herself seemed unfazed, eyeing the ink-covered gentleman with a quizzical glare.

"Let's not start off on the wrong foot already, Miss Amesdale," Craftlove warned evenly. "I'm a very fair teacher and quite fun once you get to know me, but I have a personal peeve for poor manners and disobedience. Now, please take your feet off the desk. I would hate to have to send you to Lord Death's office before our first class is even over."

A staring contest ensued between the N.O.T. Meister and the oddly marked professor. Neither seemed bent on backing down, although Shuvo pleaded internally that the girl beside him just have one scrap of common sense and do as the teacher instructed. Not only was it a very serious mistake to disobey a teacher in his beliefs, in this particular case it was also probably a very grave one.

All around her, the entire class watched in silent anticipation, wondering if any form of confrontation was about to ensue. Dual eyes locked onto the professor's dark grey ones, testing their mettle in the process. After a few tense moments, she reluctantly forfeited the standoff, sliding her boots off the desktop, but not before she had gone and caused an unnecessarily distracting scene.

"Thank you," Professor Craftlove remarked, finally able to continue onto the next person on his attendance. "Now, let's see who's next?"

Moving onto the second name, his tattooed features perked up as he read it.

"Oh, I see we have an Arisaka with us," he commented cheerfully. "Miss Arisaka Yumi?"

"H-Here, Professor," the lavender-haired girl answered shyly from the seat directly in front of the still jutting shiruken.

"Are you by chance related to Roza and Isoroku?" he wondered.

"Yes, Sir. They're my grandparents."

"Wonderful," Craftlove reveled in the news. "I'll be sure to keep my eye on you then. I know I can expect good things from their granddaughter."

* * *

Following down the rest of the attendance sheet without incident, the remainder of the class for the day was spent handing out and reviewing the syllabus, going over necessary reading material that needed to be purchased, and getting a general overview of what was to come before they began delving into their studies. Much to everyone's annoyance, Professor Craftlove even assigned homework to be turned in the following Wednesday. It was a fairly simple assignment; if you had already declared a partner, write one page about them. If you still had not found one yet, merely write one page about yourself. It was meant to serve as both an introductory team building exercise and a way with which the professor could learn more about his students' backgrounds.

With their homework assigned, the noon bell rang over the speakers indicating that they had an hour to eat before heading off to their next class. Packing up their belongings, the N.O.T. students filed out into the hallway, greeted on their way out by Craftlove, Tsubaki, and Soul. Shuvo wished to spend some time after the class to introduce himself to his teachers, but had to unfortunately delay that endeavor so that he was not separated in the mass of exiting bodies.

"Do things like that normally happen during class?" he questioned worriedly, catching up to Mirika as she made her way towards the lunchroom.

"More or less," she replied. "Actually, all things considered things have been pretty quiet so far. No fights or explosions or anything like that, so a throwing star is pretty low on the list of typical stuff. Gotta say, I wasn't expecting the new guy to have the juevos rancheros to pull something like that."

"I do not understand why you insisted on not listening to Professor Craftlove, though," he said frankly. "He is our teacher, along with Miss Tsubaki and Mister Death Scythe. We need to show them our thanks and respect."

"Don't get me wrong, I wasn't doing that to be a punk," Mirika clarified. "That's just my way of testing the teachers here. See, I don't just give respect to anybody around here; they've gotta earn it in my book. If a teacher can't stand up to a student, why should I trust them to stand up to a real threat? Sounds messed up, I know, but that's just how I do things. So I think this Craftlove guy passed today. He's no Sid or Stein yet, but I kinda like his style."

"He seems like a nice man," Shuvo observed. "I do feel a little guilty for you deceiving him, though. He is still our teacher and we should respect him because of that. Are you going to continue to do things like that to him and the other teachers?"

"I keep messing with you, don't I?" she replied with a devious smirk.

"I should have known better," the monk sighed. "Please just do not get us in trouble. The relationship between teacher and student is important in my culture. I would like to stay in their good graces as much as possible."

Passing through the hallways of the Academy, they eventually arrived into the open expanse of the cafeteria, already bustling with students getting their midday meals.

"Don't worry about it," Mirika said, finding them an empty seat and claiming it before anyone else was able to. "After lunch we got this new thing called G.W.A.A.R and then gym with Nygus. I'm not sure who's teaching that or what it is, but I already know not to mess with Nygus now. I learned that lesson the hard way. That lady is stone cold merciless when she wants to be."

* * *

The next hour passed without incident as Shuvo abstained from eating anything and Mirika grabbed only a light lunch. With plenty of time to spare, they wandered the halls aimlessly before making their way outside where their class was scheduled to meet. With the laughing sun already in full swing above them, the orange ball of flame beat down upon all of Death City, enveloping it in a blanket of heat. Whatever activity that this new course was, it was already assured to be miserable from the sweltering atmosphere alone.

Congregated in the middle of the artificial turf field surrounded by the track, the duo stood off to the side as the remaining N.O.T. students conversed among themselves in anticipation for the class. Their patience was rewarded when the clock struck two and the bell could be heard playing over the loud speaker. From down the track, five people emerged led by the tall blue, gorilla-like man that had barked at the student's during Lord Death's speech.

"Sweet, we got Sid," Mirika grinned genuinely. "This is already gonna be good, I can feel it."

Coming before the mass of students, the beast stopped several feet from them, his blank eyes scanning the crowd of gawking and attentive faces.

"Alright, listen up," he said, cutting right to the chase. "This year Lord Death had decided to test out a new program designed to help the Academy make better quality Meister and Weapon teams. In the past, teams were generally left to fend for themselves as far as advancing their skills and tactics. Well now that's all about to change. We've realized that in order to advance the quality of our teams against threats, we needed an overhaul of how we approached our development training. As a result, in this class we're going to work with you all one on one to help make you better, faster, and stronger than teams of the past. Our hope is that you will become more efficient in your missions and closer as partners."

"Welcome to G.W.A.A.R.," he announced. "Guided Weapon Arts Advancement and Refinement, or as I like to call it 'Weaponology 101'. I'm Sid Barett and I'll be your instructor for this class. Over the first week, you'll all be evaluated and given a designated mentor who will be suited to help you with your particular Weapon type and your fighting style. You will either be assigned to me, Harvar Ѐclair, Kilik Rung and his Weapons, or…"

Noticing that only four of his assistants were present, the zombie looked all around him and the field frantically, as though he had misplaced something of great importance.

"Dammit, where did he get off to?" Sid mumbled worriedly. "I always was more observant than that when I was still alive."

Riding on the scorching desert breeze, a faded, boasting voice came forth and surrounded them, as though coming from all sides.

"_Don't you think a big guy like me deserves a bigger introduction than that?" _

"Idiot," Harvar voiced coldly.

"_What am I supposed to do with a weak entrance like that? It's unfitting for someone of my grandness. But I'll forgive you. This stage is obviously too small to hold me anyways. I need something bigger." _

"_I'll be the one to take God's stage away from him. Remember that." _

From out of the heavens above, a figure crashed down to earth in an explosive display, shaking the ground below and leaving a sizable crater from the point of impact. As the dust lingered momentarily in a thick veil, one could barely make out the short, muscular figure that lay concealed beneath it.

"Cower in fear as you stand in the shadow of your future Bushin, children. And know that I am the Star."


	8. Our First Principles to Find

Chapter 8: Our First Principles to Find: When We Fall, Will We Fall Together?

Wafting gently on the stirring desert winds, the blanket of dust that had been uplifted by the falling entity was wisped away, revealing a lone figure poised menacingly in the center of the crater he had created. Clad in a sleeveless white shirt that clung to his muscular shoulders, a white sash, and wide black pants, two piercing teal eyes revealed themselves from out between his spiky head of equally colored hair and the thick snow white scarf wrapped up just below his nose.

Every set of eyes within the G.W.A.A.R class were now trained intensely upon the teen, many of them in a state of shock and awe at the dramatic entrance, while others looked upon it with questionable wonderment. Only their instructor and his assistants appeared irritated or exasperated by the ostentatious display.

"Would I be correct in assuming this is the one who you spoke of earlier, Mirika? The one who enjoys standing out?" Shuvo asked in perplexion at what he was witnessing.

"Yep, that's him," the Meister stated flatly, crossing her arms over her chest uncaringly.

From out of the caved in rubble, the intimidating teen approached them with a sharpened gleam, his body language giving off an aura of commanded respect and admiration for the deity that now stood in their presence. Much like the introduction of Death Scythe Soul Eater, hushed whispers of those who had heard the secondhand stories of the previous year's happenings filled the congregation, although these were not of childish affection, but almost of fright.

Standing erect and proud before the novices, his teal irises bore into theirs as he basked in their awe. Lifting his chin up so that the entirety of his face was revealed, he struck a pose as he pointed a finger in the air.

"I am the one and only Black Star!" he proclaimed dramatically for all the N.O.T. class to bear witness. "The greatest assassin and Meister the world has ever seen! Consider it the highest honor to be taught by someone as great as me!"

Off to the side, Sid could only rub his face in frustration at his assistant's introduction. As badly as he wanted to tell the young man to shut up and fall in line so that they could continue onto the lesson, it would look bad for both him and the egotistical assassin if he scolded him in public. Although he was still getting used to the idea, he had to remember that Black Star was now an authority figure to the N.O.T. students within the Academy and it would make a poor impression upon the rookies if their instructors were deemed incompetent in any way. Best to just let him finish his self-centered performance now and then chastise him in private afterwards.

"Of course, everyone else teaching you here is pretty awesome too," he heard Black Star add firmly. "You're going to be learning from the best of the best, so listen up and pay attention to what they tell you."

Making his way beside the other assistants, Black Star gave the zombie a knowing nod, indicating that he was done with his entrance.

While it certainly was a nice change of pace to see Black Star giving credit where credit was due, it didn't exactly excuse his behavior, Sid thought as he scratched the back of his head. But at least he was displaying a little more maturity than he would have otherwise done in the past. He could only suppose that some humility was better than none at all.

"Yes…well, as I was saying, these will be your mentors for the year," Sid continued as he tried to get his agenda back on track after the interruption. "By the end of the week we should have all of you assigned to one of them. Keep in mind that just because they'll be your mentor doesn't mean you can't ask others for outside assistance in your training. You're more than free to pursue extra training and advice from the other faculty as well. Now today we're going to be going over the basics of Weapons and Meisters and your roles within your team. So let's see what you all can do. Partnered teams go ahead and transform if you can. Everybody else, take five minutes to introduce yourselves and try to find someone who might suit you for the rest of class. Try not to be too picky though, just find someone who you are somewhat compatible with. You're not going to be partners permanently unless you really want to be."

"I never was one to force partners together. That's not the kind of man I was. Destined souls always have had a way of finding their other half anyways," he added to himself, watching as the field erupted in flashes of various colored lights as the Weapons transformed. Those not already part of an established team moved in their masses to talk amongst each other, evaluating their temporary partner's personal style quickly to determine the possibility of a match.

Transforming in a burst of tangerine light, Shuvo landed easily into Mirika's awaiting hands, noticing the genuine, almost giddy smirk that was plastered on her features. Her joyfulness was evident as well in her soul wavelength that spread out to join his own within the blackened expanse. It seemed that unlike the bout with the Gemini twins, Mirika's wavelength was much more relaxed and tranquil this time around, although the slight annoyance of distortion still lingered in their connection. That, however, would go away in all due time with plenty of practice and repetition.

From within the eye of his khakkhara form, the young monk spied the familiar head of lavender hair belonging to the girl he had conversed with earlier in the day. It seemed as though she had been approached by a potential partner in the way of a boy around her age and height with light brown skin and a head of long, deep purple hair that bordered on the verge of being black kept tied back into not one, but three ponytails conjoined at a single point at the nape of his neck. His attire was an odd mixture of professional and street, with pressed white pants falling down just barely over his green and black high top sneakers. His white shirt as well was pressed and haphazardly tucked in beneath a black leather belt, although the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. Over the top of this he wore a collared green, black, and white Dearth City Football Club jersey with the number forty-two on the back. Dangling from around his neck were multiple gold and silver chains of various thicknesses with pendant crosses and Death Skulls overlapping one another.

The Arisaka seemed to be very timid and hesitant at first as the boy spoke with her, as she had been in class, but after a few moments of conversation she gave a hesitant nod in confirmation before erupting into a flash of bright pink. Revealing to those around her that she was in fact a Weapon, her body stretched and contorted within the light before falling into the Meister's awaiting grasp.

Clenching the Weapon in his hands and allowing his wavelength to flow into the N.O.T. girl, the boy gave the faintest hint of surprise at her form's revealing, as though it was not at all what he had been expecting. Now standing vertically with the muzzled end reaching almost to the top of his head, Yumi had now taken the form of a five foot long smoothbore musket complete with a beautifully burled wine-hued stock and shining steel barrel. Fine brass on either side of the butt, along the trigger guard, and across the barrel helped accentuate the elegance of the slender Weapon, making it certainly aesthetically pleasing to potential Meisters.

Now formed up into their partnerships, the teams awaited the instruction of the zombie, who was glad to see that out of the roughly sixty students under his care that only a small handful were unable to fully transform.

"Alright then," Sid addressed. "Today we're not going to be doing any actual combat. Instead, I want all of you to look around at your classmates. Pay particular attention to one another's Weapon forms and see if you can find any patterns."

Listening to the instructor's advice, Mirika, Shuvo, and the rest of the G.W.A.A.R. class' heads went on a swivel, scoping out the variety of Weapons around them.

One of the first things that the khakkhara immediately took notice of was that swords, axes, spears, and scythes were the Weapons that constituted the greatest majority of the class, varying vastly in shapes, sizes, colors, and functionalities. There were also a few firearms, such as Miss Yumi, scattered amongst the mass, as well as random assortments of other forms, such as a morning star, a longbow, and a bladed pair of dual-wielded knuckledusters.

Another, less obvious, point that he observed was that with the exception of himself, every other Weapon he saw was offensively based. Granted, he did have a small daggered attachment, but that was not the intended function of his form as it would be with the other students. His specialty lied within his Soul Gate, which was unfortunately finicky at best and not very well understood at the present time. From what he could deduce, only Ebb Gemini, who wasn't even a N.O.T. student, was the only other Weapon he was aware of who was designed to be used in a defensive manner rather than an attacking one, even though he was wielded in such a ways regardless.

"This will be your first lesson of the year and one of the most fundamentally important, so listen up," Sid remarked. "When it comes down to it, the Weapon type that you choose sets the stage for the rest of your partnership, so finding one that you're compatible with and comfortable using is one of the biggest factors in whether you'll succeed or not. As you can see, Weapon types vary greatly, but they can all be boiled down into six core groups; Bladed, Melee, Projectile, Defensive, Elemental, and Exotic. Each of these groups forms the root of their Weapon family tree, where variations and differences have evolved with each new generation. Knowing which group or groups you fall under is the starting point in understanding your strengths and weaknesses in your fighting style."

From out of the class, a puzzled hand was raised in question, grabbing the zombie's attention.

"Yes?" Sid replied.

The inquirer in question was a young redhead in a powder blue dress clutching a wiry thin sword with a twisting, ornate hand guard.

"If the Weapon type that we chose is so important to whether we'll be a good team, how do we know if the one we've chosen is the right one for us?" she asked with a hint of reservation, as though not meaning to purposefully offend her current selection.

"That's a good question," Sid hummed, rubbing his gorilla-like hand beneath his chin in feigned confoundment before turning to the Spartoi. "Any of you want to explain it to them?"

Turning the question over to his assistants, there was a method to the madness as he wanted to see just how well they could fare at teaching on the fly.

"I've got this if you don't mind," the taller male with tinted blue sunglasses known as Harvar replied evenly, showing no hesitation as he stepped forward to offer his explanation. None of the other assistants seemed to protest to his initiative.

"When we talk about the relationship between a Weapon and a Meister, we need to be aware of the basic natures of the two," he began in a lecturing tone, walking with an even cadence in front of the teams. "Weapons are inherently permanent in their design; their function as a fighting instrument can't be changed. Meisters, however, may have their natural strengths, but they can be taught to adopt new or different fighting styles. So for all intents and purposes, even though Weapons and Meisters are equally dependent in their partnership, a Meister is fitted to the Weapon rather than the other way around. If a Weapon is designed for long range combat, having a Meister who likes to get face-to-face with the enemy is only going to cause problems. The same can be said for a Weapon designed for close-quarters fighting. If the Meister is hesitant about getting too close to a kishin egg, having them as a partner isn't a wise idea. This is where knowing what core groups you fall under as a Weapon plays importance. Once you know that, you can find a suitable Meister that fits your style and soul wavelength, but even then it's difficult to say if you'll be a successful team or not. Only time will be able to determine that."

It was a principle that many of the students, Shuvo included, had never heard before, but made obvious sense when explained to them directly. Partners, of course, should be aware of their natural strengths and weaknesses and align themselves accordingly. If the type of Weapon or Meister didn't fit the needed criteria, they would not be able to function properly as a cohesive unit.

"On a different note, let me ask you this," Harvar continued. "First off, what're your names?"

"Cassandra Solerno," the redhead said.

"And you?" he asked to her partner.

_"Allyson Caldwell,"_ the Weapon replied confidently, her voice carrying with a slight reverberation.

"Are you a strong Weapon, Allyson?" the lightning spear followed up, focusing on her.

_"I'm a rapier,"_ the girl answered. _"I'm not a big sword, but I can hold my own just fine."_

"Rapiers are very particular Weapons," Harvar stated in a cold tone. "Their blades are lengthy and thin with very little edge, calling for mainly thrusting attacks against enemies rather than slashing. They also generally don't have much heft behind them, decreasing the amount of force that can be applied to an attack. Despite this, rapiers can be highly effective in the use of a skillful Meister's hands. Their slender profile allows for a faster speed of attack and their tapered points make skewering opponents easier. But that wasn't the intention of my question. I asked if you were a strong Weapon. Not just physically, but mentally."

_"I'm smart, if that's what you're asking,"_ the girl replied unsurely.

"Again, not the answer I was looking for," Harvar stated bluntly.

Cocking a brow towards the mentor, the young girl pouted her face in annoyance at the stoic's questioning from within her Weapon form.

"Let me say this for all of the Weapons here," Harvar announced evenly. "When you form a partnership with a Meister, you inherently assume the duties as not only their fighting instrument and friend, but as their guardian and protector. 'Selflessness' and 'sacrifice' are the two words that lie at the very core of what it means to be a Weapon at the Academy. With every mission you go on and with every opponent you face, you are knowingly and willingly putting yourself between your Meister and the very thing that wishes to harm them. Many of you will be injured, possibly very seriously, at some point or another as you hunt corrupted souls, but that's a small price to pay for the safety of your Meister. So for all the Weapons, I'll ask you this; do you have the mental strength to live the life of a selfless servant, knowing that you will be called upon to protect your partner at all costs? Are you ready to make the ultimate sacrifice for your Meister at any moment, laying down your own life so that they may live? I understand that all of your partnerships are in their infancy, but if you are hesitant in even the slightest bit about your answer, you should think long and hard about why you've selected the partner you have."

Noticing the scared and pondering faces of the novices, it was plain to see that the seeds of thought he had implanted were beginning to take root. It wasn't a pleasant topic to talk about, not after all the people he had seen die only a few months prior, but it was a subject that they needed to think intensely about as they began their journeys hunting kishin eggs. Once they understood this concept, they would then have the cornerstone of what it meant to be a Weapon at the DWMA. From there they would be able to build themselves up and create the foundation of an effective team.

Watching from the sidelines, Sid couldn't help but be slightly impressed with the direction Harvar had decided to push the first lesson. It was a morbid subject and difficult to swallow for just about anyone, but it was one that needed to be taught right from the get-go. Harvar was typically a man of few words, but when he did speak he said nothing but the coldest, hardest truth without sugar-coating anything, making him the perfect candidate to convey the seriousness of a Weapon's responsibilities.

Before the mass of novices even had much of a chance for the message to sink in, the Meister called Kilik stepped forward with his Weapons Fire and Thunder by his side, tilting his head down before the now slightly quivering redhead.

"But the Weapon only makes up half of the team. Right, Cassandra?" he addressed to the girl as well as the rest of the class. "Can you tell us what your duty is as the Meister?"

The young girl fidgeted slightly as she averted her gaze to her feet in hesitation at the question, not liking being put on the spot in front of her classmates.

"To…to… wield the Weapon?" she answered with reservation. She knew it was the simplest and most obvious of replies to the question, but the Meister hoped that she would just be proven wrong so they could be given the proper answer.

"You're right about that," Kilik answered, motioning towards his twin pots. Glowing red and yellow respectively, the children vanished in the radiance and reappeared in their Weapon forms upon the mentor's hands. Small flames and sparks of electricity danced from the gauntlets as Kilik bumped the two fists together in front of his chest.

"As a Meister, your task is to wield your Weapon, or in my case Weapons, against your targets in order to collect their souls," he explained in a hardened tone. "Because of this, your Weapon puts their trust and their life literally in your hands. I'm warning all of you now to never take this fact for granted. If you screw up, you're both dead. 'Selflessness' and 'sacrifice' may be the core of a Weapon, but 'judgment' and 'flexibility' are at the heart of being a Meister. If you're lacking in either of these two qualities while battling a target, you're going to pay for it. So some words of advice; the best Meisters aren't necessarily the fastest or strongest, but the ones who keep their cool when things go south. They adapt and overcome to the situation."

Stepping back from the crowd to give himself plenty of space, Kilik dropped the gauntlets to his sides with clenched fists, focusing himself as a slight rustle of whirlwind began to form by his feet.

"Fire! Thunder!" he roared. "Let's go! Soul Resonance!"

Twisting and spiraling with gaining intensity, the column of air picked up as a blast of compressed wavelength echoed out through the field. Smokey, glowing essences of crimson and yellow began to seep from the gauntlets like genies from their lamps, shifting and morphing before erupting in twin flashes of flame and lightning to reveal two far more matured versions of the bright-eyed children. Levitating on either side of the dark-skinned Meister, the fully formed Earth Shamans arrived to the gawks of wonderment from the G.W.A.A.R. class.

"This is what happens when you combine Weapon and Meister," Kilik announced to his potential mentees. "When both souls align themselves towards a common goal and establish Soul Resonance, they unleash a strength that's far beyond anything either of them can accomplish alone. It's the ultimate demonstration of unity between partners. This is the level we're going to get you to, one way or another."

Moving his feet shoulder width apart, the corn-rowed teen prepared himself as he took off in a bounding vertical leap, channeling his soul wavelength into Fire and Thunder. Burning bright in the palms of his hands, flame and spark intertwined as Kilik offered just a hint of their potential. Combining the gauntlets together, the two elements fused into a bursting eruption of static-blue energy.

"Aphex Twin!" he shouted, releasing the attack high into the sky in an explosive demonstration.

From his position on the ground below, Shuvo watched on in wonderment of the raw power that the attack had unleashed. Even from its distance high above them, the pure heat and blast of the shockwave that came from the elemental strike was enough to cause him to place his hands over his face to shield himself even though he was currently transformed.

Landing easily back on the ground, a content smirk spread over him as he allowed Fire and Thunder to return to their human forms. Positioning himself alongside Harvar and earning a fist bump from Black Star, the five of them formed a highly intimidating group as the realization hit the N.O.T. class full force of the kinds of people they were about to call their superiors.

These weren't your average Meisters and Weapons, Shuvo concluded with a mixture of admiration, determination, and shaking nerves. These were without a doubt members of Shibusen's elite and a true power to behold. The only question that remained to be answered was which of the three he and Mirika would be assigned to; the boisterous egotist, the no nonsense stoic, or the fiery elementalists?

* * *

Retired into her room for the evening, Mirika sat upon the edge of her bed with her instrument in hand, picking haphazardly at the strings in hopes of finding a new riff that appealed to her. With the soft sound of the guitar drifting out through the open bedroom window, the warm embrace of the late summer night had at last fallen over the towering spires of the academy and Death City, indicating the end of a long, but eventful first day of class for the students.

For the white-haired Meister, much of what she had witnessed was a repeat of the previous year. Even with a new homeroom teacher, much of the material would remain the same, which was hardly anything to get excited over. However, the new G.W.A.A.R. program seemed like it was going to actually be enjoyable, especially with her favorite faculty member heading it up. She might even have an incentive to put in some effort this time around.

A soft rapping at the wooden door captured her distracted mind as her plastic pick moved its way in patterned scales up and down the guitar face, singing notes at random before she stopped to place it on her bed. Shuffling past her gear which she had managed to rearrange into the somewhat cluttered living space, she opened the door already well aware of the only person who could be on the other side.

"Good evening, Mirika," Shuvo greeted with a bright smile, standing at the doorway with his notebook and a pencil in hand.

"Sup?" the girl replied back, leaning against the doorframe dressed in a loose band t-shirt, black shorts, and her one stocking.

"I was wondering if you would like to start on our assignment?" he replied, referring to Professor Craftlove's icebreaker paper.

"Right now?" Mirika questioned with a slight drone. "We've got tomorrow to work on it and it's not that much. So let's just do it later."

The cheerful aura of the boy waned slightly at her answer, unsure as to why she wouldn't wish to just complete the assignment now and be done with it.

"If it is not much, we can do it quickly then," he countered, undeterred by her response. "That way you can get back to your music and not have to worry about it."

With a slightly audible groan, Mirika caved in to the fact that there was no real way of weaseling her way out of this one. It would have to get done one way or another, and in all honesty she wasn't exactly doing anything of the upmost importance at the moment anyways. It was more of the fact that she saw the whole thing as a waste of time than anything else.

"Fine," she groaned under her breath, opening the door all the way to invite him inside. "C'mon, let's get this over with."

Making space on her bed and moving her guitar off to the side, she grabbed an already well used notebook from the messy desktop and a pen before plopping down onto the mattress.

Noticing the lack of a secondary presence, she looked over to see the monk still standing in the doorway, as though some invisible barrier prohibited him from entering.

"Oh for crying out loud," she mumbled equally to herself as to him. "It's just a girl's room, Shuvo. Suck it up. Nothing in here's going to kill you, except for me if you don't get in here and sit down."

Doing as he was instructed quickly for fear that she may actually stay true to her word, the monk shuffled past her pedals and cables on the floor to take a seat at the desk, clearing a little bit of space for him to do his work on. Able to finally take in his surroundings, he noticed the way in which her room was decorated with a variety of music paraphernalia, from the assortment of CDs she kept on her desk to the posters on the wall and the orange and red acoustic guitar and her slim black case propped up near the window. Even her bedsheets were covered in little black skulls and guitars.

"So how do you want to start this?" the girl questioned in an exhaustive tone, propping her notebook up against her knees. "We just need to do one page, right?"

"Yes, just one. I suppose we should ask one another questions," Shuvo replied with the obvious response. "Or you can tell me about yourself and I will write it down."

"Well then ask away," Mirika prompted, showing no real enthusiasm to start telling her whole life story. It was just more effort than she felt like putting in at the moment.

"Alright then," he said, his voice growing a little more chipper at the opportunity. "I have never asked you where you are from. What was it like for you growing up? Do you have a close relationship with your family? Do you have any brothers or sisters? When did you find out you were going to be a Meister? How did you…"

The swift raising of her hand indicated that he was rambling in his questions again. In fact, the manner in which she stopped him was almost identical to the way in which Bhante would silently tell him he was rattling off too many questions.

"Let's just start with the easy ones," she explained, putting her hand down. "If you really must know, I'm from a town in the south called Junction Station. It's a pretty nice place; not too big, not too small, and the people are friendly. As far as the family, I guess you could say we're pretty normal. My dad's in the real estate business and my mom works for a local oil company. I got an older brother who's about to go to college. We're all pretty tight-knit and I try to make it out to see them whenever I get the chance. There's not much else to really say. We're about as average as they come, except for me of course. I'm kind of the black sheep, but a smart guy like you probably already figured that out."

Taking a moment to write everything down in his notes for the assignment, there was a seriousness about him as she watched him with a wry smile. Oblivious to it, it was as though he had taken a real genuine interest in everything she was telling him.

"Please continue," he said. "When did you find out you were a Meister?"

"Guess it was right around six years ago when I was eight," Mirika replied. "Every now and then I would get this weird connection towards somebody when we would go out on the town. Turns out that person would turn out to be a Weapon. Then when I was ten I started getting a little faster and stronger than your average girl, but it wasn't until last year my folks put two and two together and figured I was a Meister. We packed my stuff up and the next thing I knew I was talking with the Old Lord Death and filling out the paperwork. A Kishin being released and three Weapons later and here I am."

Nodding in confirmation, Shuvo jotted every bit of detail down in his notebook, not saying anything as he scribbled away.

"Got anything else you want to know?" she questioned.

Finishing with the sentence he was writing, he looked up and almost unknowingly became transfixed as his eyes wandered around the room at the various things she owned. She could easily tell that he was brimming with questions, trying to get a better read on her real self by the worldly possessions she surrounded herself with, but he seemed hesitant to ask some of the more in depth questions. His gaze fell constantly on the rectangular case in the corner of the room that she always carried with her, and it was more than plain to see that he wanted to know what exactly she kept locked up inside of it.

"There are a few things," he replied after a moment. "Although I do not necessarily understand it as it is discouraged by the Precepts, I have to admit I am a little curious about music. It is plain to see it is a major part of your life, and if I want to understand you I suppose I need to understand it more. I wish to know why it is of such importance to you."

From her position on her bed, a small, content smile came over Mirika at the inquiry, as though she had been expecting the question to come up at some point or another. Propping herself up straight, it was an opportunity she silently relished, hoping that maybe she could break through that religiously strict, traditionalist barrier that Shuvo surrounded himself with.

"Here's the thing about music, Shuvo," she began, a certain melancholy in her tone that wasn't there before. "Music is a person's soul put on display for the world. When you hear somebody playing a guitar or singing or drumming or whatever, they're putting their life out there for you to hear. It's like having a soul wavelength that can touch the world, even long after you're dead. You don't have to know their name or where they're from, but you'll know a lot about them if you sit and listen long enough. So really music and soul wavelengths are pretty much one and the same. Everyone has those souls that resonate with them and those that don't so they're incompatible with them, so I guess you could say the same is true with music. It's all about finding the ones that resonate with you and for me its blues and rock and metal. Those are the ones that I relate to the most and the ones that get me through the day."

Stopping, she realized that as she had been talking, Shuvo had not been taking any notes whatsoever for the assignment. Rather, he had given her his undivided attention and never strayed away, as though soaking up every little bit of knowledge and analogy she could give him on the matter.

"Why do the blues and rock and metal relate to you?" he wondered aloud, in all honesty not really knowing what the differences between the three even were.

Thinking about the nature of the question, Mirika knew there would be no real way for her to fully explain it to him without him listening and hearing them for himself. Music wasn't something you could capture and rationalize on paper or in words, but an almost spiritual experience that transcended definition.

"Hard to say," she replied. "I guess the best way to put it is they're the essence of raw emotion. There's no glitter or sparkles to doll it up like radio bubblegum pop or other stuff like that. They just reach deep into your heart and tell you that instead of trying to hide from the shadows you should embrace them. They connect on the human level so much better than anything else, telling us to welcome the struggles of life because we're not alone. If you're having a bad day, instead of faking being alright and putting on a plastic smile, crank up the distortion, scream your lungs out, and release every ounce of energy you have. After that, you'll actually feel happy."

Sitting up from her bed, she figured that there was no real use in trying to conceal her prized possession from him, not that in all honesty she had been trying to hide it in the first place. It was just something she hadn't gotten around to doing yet with everything going on in the last few days. Moving over to the window, she picked up the rectangular black case and placed it on the bed. Flipping the latches, she opened it up to reveal a red velvet lining on the inside of the tolex. With a cautious grip, she lifted the instrument out of the case to show the monk.

"This is my baby," she explained, her black painted nails contrasting sharply to the glossy white electric guitar she held protectively. The body was slim and contoured in an exaggerated Les Paul style, with a sharp single cutaway and shining golden hardware on the bridge and saddle. "She's a prototype of the Umbra Ecliptic One-Thousand models and one of the few that made it out onto the market. Made of solid mahogany with an ebony fretboard, mother of pearl in the inlays, and paua on the binding. But when it comes to guitars, looks are just personal preference. It's all about what's under the hood. She may look like an angel, but she screams like a demon."

"There's a Wicked Banshee Five Hundred Series single coil in the neck," she said, pointing to one of the two small black rectangles embedded below the strings in the middle of the guitar. "Really works well on the high gains for leads. And in the bridge I've got a Pale Rider Thunderhorse Ninety-Five humbucker for the crunchy low ends and rhythm. There's also a three-way channel selector and push pull pots wired up so I can…"

Trailing off mid-sentence, a sudden realization washed over her that she was rambling about things that Shuvo probably had no clue about whatsoever. There was a mild embarrassment as she came to terms with the fact that she had gotten just as worked up over a passion as when he did, although the feeling was short lived. She could see that the boy had a puzzled, but genuine intrigue about everything she was saying, despite her long-winded detailing of her guitar.

"Anyways," she continued, regaining her train of thought as she placed the six string back in its case. "This is how I put my soul on display. You got anything else you need for your paper?"

"No, I believe I have all I need for now," Shuvo replied with a shake of the head, a small smile on his face. "Would you like to question me next for your paper?"

Picking up her acoustic from the side, the Meister strummed a few half-hearted notes, trying to find the riff she had been working on before the interruption.

"Nah," she said with a wry smile. "I've got all I need. If I can't think of anything else I'll just make some stuff up. Besides, don't you have some mandatory no-fun monk stuff to do?'

"Yes, I do suppose I need to do my nightly hour of meditation," Shuvo answered, gathering his notes slowly, taking his time as though he didn't necessarily wish to leave her presence so soon. Mirika, however, had insisted that she did not require to know anything more about him for the assignment, so he would not push the matter any further.

Slipping easily out of the doorway and into his own quarters, the speech Mister Harvar had given earlier in the day still lingered fresh in the forefront of his mind, and part of him wanted to discuss the nature of their partnership with the Meister. However, something internal wasn't quite ready to have that conversation yet. Closing the door behind him and assuming his meditative position in the center of his almost barren room, he quietly asked himself if he was as ready to embrace the responsibilities of a Weapon as fully as those of his spiritual disciplines.

* * *

**Author's Note: ****I thoroughly believe that Kilik is the unsung badass of Spartoi. He really didn't get nearly as much spotlight as he should have in either the manga or the anime. Seriously, him and the pots put almost everyone else to shame. Anyone remember when he quadruple wielded Fire, Thunder, Liz, and Patty?! How that never got into the anime is beyond me. Either way, that's why he's my personal favorite of the Meisters. Don't get me wrong, I like them all in their own way, but Kilik just has this collected awesomeness about him that I really like.**


	9. As the Blood Runs Cold

Chapter 9: As the Blood Runs Cold: Shine On You Demented Diamond?

Hanging low in the late evening sky, the brilliant sun that had cast its warmth across the earth below now dwindled and faded with a weary face, painting the sky above in a subtle pallet of pinks, oranges, and indigos. There was perhaps a little bit of life left in the drowsy ball of flame to last for another half an hour, give or take a couple of minutes before the onyx sphere now known as the moon rose to devoid the sky of its precious beauty.

Dully reflecting the hues of the light above, the virgin white snow that lay lightly upon the rocky ground gave way with a soft crunch as two pairs of feet trekked their way up the steep mountain incline towards their destination. Echoing softly off the side of the granite cliff faces that rose up around them, the disgruntled voice of one of the hikers broke through the otherwise silent scene.

"Ag, Vicky, you've really gone and done it this time," Kiana grumbled as she clenched her exposed arms together protectively, shivering against the chilling wind that cascaded down the mountainside. "Would it have freakin' killed ya to check the mission specs before we left? It's the middle of September and there's snow on the ground. I swear, I'm thinking I'd rather be back in Abu Dhabi. At least there I wasn't trying to keep my bits from freezing off."

Leaving a trail of heavy boot prints in the snow, Victoria eyed the top of the winding road in the not so far off distance, completely unaffected by her own logistical unpreparedness.

"How was I supposed to know there was going to be snow?" the strawberry-blonde Meister replied, seemingly oblivious to the fact that neither one of them were dressed appropriately for their mission at hand. Kiana's sandaled feet were completely exposed to the elements, while Victoria was donned in her standard attire of black combat boots, desert camouflage shorts, and fitted black spandex shirt. "And for the record, I did read the specs, thank you very much. All it said was that some bloke in Colorado went nanners and killed a whole bunch of the townsfolk with an axe inside the hotel then bogged himself down in one of the rooms. It didn't say anything about the hotel being at the top of a mountain. Besides, the temperature's not that bad. We've been in swells off the Cape colder than this."

"With wetsuits on," Kiana countered with a huff, rubbing her arms up and down to try to get some circulation going.

"Well you can warm your bits once we get inside," Victoria remarked as they neared their destination. "It's not that much farther. I think I can see the roof."

Indeed, as the Meister and Weapon passed the crest of the incline, the side of the mountain laid flat to reveal a magnificent white building with candy red trimming capped by numerous wedged shaped inclines to discourage the snowfall from accumulating. Out in front was a large circular drive through which patrons would enter and leave, and a large carved wooden sign and bronze elk statue that greeted guests upon their arrival. The entire property was elegant enough for a weekend getaway with the family, although the few weeks without any maintenance had left it all in a mild state of disarray.

"Welcome to the Redrum Lodge. Enjoy your stay," Victoria read as they passed the snow covered lawn towards the grand rotating doorway that was the entrance. "Seems like a nice enough place, except for the fact that there's a kishin egg inside. We should book a vacation once we're all finished up here. Do some skiing or boarding when we're able to get a break."

"Oh ja, what a marvelous idea," the Weapon snided sarcastically, rolling her golden eyes. "We'll just have to hope the maids can get the blood stains out of all the sheets before we arrive, now won't we?"

Coming up to the entrance to the mountain lodge, the two girls passed beneath the tattered covering of the vinyl porte cochere, stopping just before the glass revolving doorway to stare into the darkened lobby within.

"Alright Vicky, time to get serious," Kiana announced, her body erupting into an emerald light as she split into her ulak blades. With a well practiced technique, she could feel her Meister grab each half skillfully, twirling them around her fingers several times before stopping with edges at the ready.

"Aren't I always?" Victoria replied, feeling their souls connect. "Really Kiki, sometimes I think you have no faith in me at all."

"_Could you honestly blame me if I didn't?"_

Pressing her hand to the revolving door, the Meister took a moment to notice how her palm lined up almost perfectly with a bloodstained print that had left a streak down to the bottom of the glass. Giving a light push, the female duo exited the fading light from the outside and entered the nearly pitch black confines of the lodge inside in search of their target.

Entering into the faintly illuminated lobby, the two could see that the interior was decorated in a classical ski lodge rustic style, with the walls made of long planks of pine and numerous petrified animal heads casting long shadows from their mounts above. But these weren't the things that caught their attention, as the last of the fading sunset revealed the secrets that the hotel hid within its walls.

"Crikey," Victoria stated nonchalantly, giving a long whistle at the numerous darkened pools that spotted the floor and streaked across the walls. Foot and handprints of the massacred victims painted every surface in blood that had long since soaked deep into the wood. Chairs and tables lay strewn about, overturned no doubt in the patrons' desperate attempt to flee the evil that hacked them down one by one for their precious souls. Long, deep gashes along the floorboards and pine walls showed where the maniac had struck with powerful blows, splintering the wood and even shattering entire support beams, leaving everything in a frozen state of gore and chaos.

_"Ag_, _what a mess,_" Kiana observed, figuring that the maids were going to have to do a lot more than just clean the sheets if Victoria ever wanted her vacation.

Had either of them been someone with a normal soul of average strength, the sight before them would have been enough to cause severe emotional distress, possibly even madness. Those souls who were driven to the brink of insanity by such traumas, most notably survivors of such, often posed high risks of becoming kishin themselves, unable to cope with what they've seen or heard. However, Meisters and Weapons were generally able to overcome the madness that came with such sights due in part to their strong souls and their consistent exposure to such atrocities. Twisted, immoral humans and murderous monsters we're all just part of the job description as far as many of the students were concerned.

"_Something's not right here," _Kiana sensed, her human form appearing in the low shine of one of her blades. _"If this is a murder scene, where are the bodies?" _

"He must have moved them somewhere," Victoria deducted.

With dust and bloodstained debris shifting lightly under foot, Victoria moved throughout the bottom floor, scanning the reception area carefully before making her way around the perimeter through the uplifted dining rooms, kitchen, and lounge area before moving onto the next floor. Ascending one of the two main staircases, she kept a watchful eye out for anything of suspicion despite her relaxed posture. All around her, the stairs, the walls, the handrails, and even the shattered chandelier dangling above were all splattered in the thick, blackened remnants of the slaughter that had taken place. Vivid portraits of outdoorsmen and winter landscapes were coated in crimson, as though the artist who completed them had a momentary lapse of judgment and streaked his works red out of blinded rage.

Reaching the intersection at the top of the staircase, Victoria made an executive decision and chose to sweep the right-side corridor, knowing that behind any hallway or door a Class B kishin egg could be lying in wait with murderous intent.

"Kiki, take a look at this," Victoria said, pressing her nose nearly up against the wall as she strained to make out something suspicious about the way the blood was formed on the nearly black wall. "Something's off about this."

"What is that_?"_ her partner wondered. _"It looks like… a bunch of numbers." _

"Not a bunch, just the same ones over and over," the Meister corrected, tracing the outlines with her finger. "Look, two… three…seven…two…three…seven."

"_Izit? __Room Two Thirty-Seven? Or maybe Three Seventy-Two or Seven Twenty-Three? Think our boy's in one of them?"_

"Dunno, but they're as good of places as any to start looking."

"_You don't suppose he's luring us into a trap, do you?"_

"Only one way to find out for sure," the Aussie concluded.

With her saber blades poised by her sides, the Meister walked casually down the hallway, spying the room numbers on each door to see if they happened to be the one they were looking for.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," Victoria sang mockingly, noticing how the numbers painted along the walls appeared to be becoming bolder and more erratic in their design the further they traveled down the corridor.

_"Ag, __don't__ start with that again," _Kiana mumbled irritably. _"Can we please just have one mission where you don't provoke the bastard?" _

"Oh, lighten up, Kiki. It's not like I go 'round poking them with a stick."

"_You might as well be the way you go 'bout it__," _the ulak grumbled._ "Sometimes I wonder if you ever hear yourself talk." _

Keeping their senses sharp, Meister and Weapon simultaneously picked up an odd clicking sound echoing softly from down the hall. Coming ever closer to the source, the pair found themselves in front of a simple wooden door with brass numbers nailed in just above eye level and a faint glow that filtered through the cracks in the frame.

"Room Two Thirty-Seven," Victoria read aloud, barely able to make out the outline of the room number through the darkness and blood spatter. Within the door she could hear the rhythmic clicking noise be followed by a sharp ding and then continue again. From what it sounded like, whatever was inside was hammering away on a typewriter or something to the nature. A low, muffled voice could be heard as well.

"_I say just bust down the door, go chargin' in, cut him to ribbons, and be done with it,"_ Kiana suggested. _"Nee wasted effort; just a quick in and out." _

"You say that like he's just going to let us waltz in and take his soul," her partner countered coolly. "We're not dealing with some rookie hoodlum out stealing ol' ladies' purses, you know."

"_Well do you at least have anything resembling a plan? Or are we just gonna do this 'easy come, easy go' like always?" _

"When you say it like that you make it sound so negative," Victoria replied, pressing her ear up against the door to try to see what the best course of action would be. Despite what Kiana often said about her, she was in fact cautious when it came to kishin hunting, and this one was no exception. Granted, she would be the first to admit that the way in which she approached missions was rather lax, but that didn't mean that she didn't take every precaution to keep their safety in mind at all times.

Trying to concentrate over Kiana's bickering at her reply, the Aussie pressed her ear harder against the thick wood in an attempt to hear what the target was doing, wondering if in fact her Weapon's idea of just charging in would be the best plan at the moment. It certainly seemed like the most efficient, but something about the whole situation just didn't quite sit well with her. Something in the air was different than just a moment prior. Wracking her brain to figure out what was out of place, it took only a split-second for her to conclude just what that something was.

The clicking of the typewriter had ceased.

No sooner had her lips moved to form an expletive, the blood-coated edge of an oversized fireman's axe came crashing through the door mere inches away from her face. With a forceful swing, splintered chunks of wood flew through the air causing the Meister to scramble out of the way before the second blow followed through. Cutting a wide V-shaped opening into the barrier, the light from the room filtered into the hallway as a grotesquely pale white face pressed its way up against the gap, its frost-bitten features curled up in a twisted, deranged grin.

"Here's Jimmy!" it cackled wildly.

With a resounding crash, the heavy door was separated from its hinges, flying through the air and slamming against the wall opposite it. Stepping out into the hallway, the yellow light of the room illuminated the entirety of the kishin egg; a tall, skeletal man with crazed brown hair that stood up on end clutching a long-handled axe. The entirety of the figure was covered in snow and ice and appeared very malnourished, as though it was a half-thawed corpse that had spent its entirety frozen solid.

Swinging wildly at Victoria despite the confines of the corridor, the sharpened blade of the axe sliced easily through drywall and support studs as it forced the Meister to retreat back several feet.

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy!' All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy!" the target screeched dementedly, coming at the Meister with a destructive overhead swing. "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy!"

Crossing Kiana's blades over the top of her head, Victoria caught the edge of the axe in their intersection as the strength of the wiry kishin egg forced her knees to cave in slightly. Repelling the blow to the side, she slashed at the target's hands, leaving long gashes atop his boney knuckles.

"You really don't want to play with us, mate," she grinned. "We're not exactly the most gracious of losers. Well, at least not Kiki here."

Screaming in pain, the corrupted soul writhed back with axe still in his clutches, raising it high above his head again. Pumping the frost through his hands, the handle and head of the weapon were encased in a hardened layer of ice with numerous spiked icicles jutting outwards, effectively turning it into a frozen warhammer.

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy!" he screamed again, bringing the hammer down atop the Meister.

Jumping back just out of range of the attack, Victoria felt the floor cave out from beneath her as Jack's modified axe tore out an entire section of the hotel. Caught off balance, Meister, Weapon, and kishin egg tumbled together through the opening in a rain of splintered wood and plaster. Landing in a heap upon the first level, chaos ensued as all three tried to regain their bearing through the falling debris and thick cloud of dust.

With heightened paranoia, Jack found his axe amongst the rubble and turned around wildly to find his prey. Reverting his weapon to its original state, he lumbered over towards the large pile of debris and gave a few mighty swings into its heart. Long gashes went all the way to the floor below as he hacked away in hopes of finishing off the girls and feasting on their souls.

Staring with confusion into his handiwork, the pre-kishin found no bodies amongst the pile, although he did find a noticeable trail in the way of plaster-covered bootprints making their escape around the corner into one of the dining rooms. With a heinous snarl, the twisted soul moved deliberately slow in search of his newly-found victims.

"Little girl. Little girl," he called out with a maniacal grin as he followed the footsteps into the upturned dining room. "Come out and play, little girl."

Passing through the various tables and cutlery that lay strewn about from his first rampage, no response rose out to meet him as he watched the trail retreat through the dimly shining double doors that led into the kitchen area.

"There's no escape, little girl," the madman chuckled wickedly, opening up the doors and entering the nearly pitch black confines with his axe dragging behind him against the tile. "You can't hide. The voices…they speak to me. They know everything. They're the ones who told me to kill all those people. All those people…so delicious…"

Swinging wildly at random, the darkened silence was shattered as the weapon connected with a series of hanging pots and pans, sending them flying and clanging against the far wall. Releasing an agitated snarl, his beady black eyes scanned for anywhere the pests may have gotten off to. There were a variety of cabinets she could have squeezed into, but his sight fell upon the vaulted meat locker at the very back of the room.

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy," he repeated again, throwing the door open forcefully in order to corner the girl. There was only one way in and one way out for her now.

Any and all traces of light ceased to filter into the frozen vault as Jack passed by the various slabs of meat that dangled from large iron hooks in the ceiling. The lingering smells of beef, pork, and venison all seemed tantalizingly delicious to him at the moment, but nothing more so than those two souls that were continuing to elude him.

"Come out, come out," he called with a hollow echo. "I know you're in here, little girl. The voices…they speak to me."

Raising his axe defensively as the flash of twin blades came out to answer him, he caught the Meister's attack before deflecting it away and responding with his own series of wild strikes. With ferocious tenacity, he chopped thick slabs of meat clean in two as he tried to hack at the slippery girl who moved to dodge him in the darkness. With his axe high above his head in another vertical strike, the darkened outline of the girl came out of the blackness right in front of him. Just as he dropped the weapon down to cleave her in two, the Meister fell flat onto her stomach in avoidance, sliding past him head first towards the entrance. Reaching out with her saber blades, she slashed at the icy man's left leg, tearing at his tendons as she tumbled out of the entrance to the vault and flipped herself over into a crouching position. With a writhing scream of agony, the pre-kishin toppled over as he spun around to follow her, eyeing the girl with an ever-growing mixture of hatred and derangement.

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy…all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy," he continued to chant to himself in a twisted series of repetitions as he stood up with half of his left calf barely attached by the muscle and sinew. Stepping forward with a definitive gimp in his step, the demented man suppressed any sign of pain as the sadistic grin on his face only spread wider. "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy."

"I'm pretty sure we heard you the first fifty times, mate," Victoria replied evenly, standing up with her ulaks by her side. "C'mon Jackie boy, I know that's not all you've got for me."

_"__Vicky! The hell__ are you doing?!" _ Kiana yelled. _"You've got him right where you want him! Finish the freakin' bastard off!"_

Much to the Weapon's dismay, her Meister merely stood there like it was all just some kind of childish game. She couldn't tell if she was trying to give the kishing egg a fighting chance or if she really was just toying with it like a cat with a captured rat. Whatever her reason, it was something she'd come to expect of her Meister, no matter how many times she protested. Every mission they had been on was in itself a renewed test of faith in the girl who wielded her, and with each new soul they collected she realized more and more just how Victoria somehow instinctively knew how to ride that thin line between reckless abandonment and complete control of a situation.

"What's the matter, mate?" she baited. "You wanted to play, right? Well I'm right here. Let's see what those voices in your noggin say when I take your soul in the name of Lord Death."

Or perhaps she was just an incredibly lucky twit.

"_Ag__! It's like I'm talking to a wall! You know one of these days this is all going to come back and bite you in the arse!"_ Kiana berated. _"And you know what I'm going to do then?! I'm going to laugh! That's what I'm going to do, Vicky! I'm going to laugh!" _

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Victoria replied casually, bringing the ulaks to the ready. "But I don't plan on letting that happen anytime soon."

It was hardly an excuse to the fact that her shenanigans aggravated the teen to no end, but she was hardly in any sort of position to do anything about it at the moment.

The shrill screech that escaped the demented being reverberated through the locker as it came charging out with a crazed vigor, chopping through anything that happened to be in the same path as his edge. His injuries seemed to be all but non-existent as he bum rushed the girl who only agitated him further with that sly smile of hers. Allowing the frost to once more envelope his axe, Jack struck out with a powerful horizontal chop at the Meister's mid-section, which she blocked with the outer edges of her blades, but not before the sheer force of the blow lifted her clear off her feet and flung her back out the double doors she had entered. Thrown onto her backside, the Meister crashed through one of the overturned tables before skidding to a violent halt.

_"Are you mal?_!" Kiana groaned, feeling the lingering effect of the brute strength the skeletal man had displayed. _"If your plan was to piss him off then you really did a bang up job!" _

"I'll admit that that probably wasn't one of my smarter ideas," Victoria replied with a grunt, quickly pulling herself up as the kishin egg lunged with warhammer in hand. Coming at the duo for another blow, the Aussie barely had enough time to place her ulaks in front of her before the second frozen attack struck home. This time there was no more space inside the hotel for her to travel as Meister and Weapon were sent flying through the large window pane at the far wall, sending a rain of shattered glass falling as they were launched out into the blackened night.

The light blanket of frigid snow did nothing to ease her landing as Victoria tumbled violently across the level mountainside, traces of fresh crimson seeping from the lacerations that tore at her back and buttocks. Coming to a stop with a painful moan, there was a brief second of disorientation as the Meister tried to regain her sense of direction. Finding herself staring upwards towards the shimmering stars and darkened moon, she lifted her head up just in time to see the edge of the axe-wielder coming to bear down on her. Rolling her legs back over her head, she could feel the slice of air brush against her skin as she pulled herself into a handspring.

"Buggar me, that was close," she huffed as she landed awkwardly on her feet away from Jack, the nighttime snow beneath her giving way with a crunch with each movement. "Yep, I'm thinking I might have rustled him up _just a tad much_."

_"It's_ _a blaady__ miracle! I think I might have actually gotten through to you!" _Kiana snided.

Against the blinding veil of the mid-summer night, Victoria could vaguely make out the thin, corpse-like silhouette as it let loose with a savage, deranged cackle.

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy!" it cried, charging awkwardly with a hitch upon his wounded leg. However, despite his maniacal mantra, his patience for this game of cat and mouse had reached its conclusive end. He was going to chop the troublesome little girls into an indistinguishable pile of flesh and guts and leave them to rot upon the mountain.

Coming upon the Meister with a sideways chop, this would be the one to finish the job. The aggravating girl's soul would be his, and then with no Meister the Weapon would be helpless. A wicked laugh escaped him as he knew that even with those blades in front to shield her, she would be cut down in an instant. Bringing the head of his axe to bear against her ribs, he watched as the edge followed through right on target.

And then she disappeared.

Looking down in bewilderment, the girl was now directly below him, still very much intact.

Dropping forward onto her knees at the last possible moment, Victoria had bent her body backwards to lay herself almost completely flat against the frozen ground, contorting herself uncomfortably in order to avoid the attack. Supporting her hands behind her head in a backwards arc, she rolled her legs out from under her and let the momentum spring them upwards to kick the handle of the kishin egg's axe from his grasp. With her enemy now defenseless and with ulaks in hand, she completed the flip by landing firmly upright on her feet, slashing the twin blades upwards through his torso in three equal segments.

There was only a brief moment for the befuddled expression he wore to curl back up into a disturbed smile before he erupted into a cyclone of spinning black and red ribbons. Disappearing into nothingness with a parting snarl, the warm, evil glow of the corrupted soul radiated against the dark of the night.

"No hard feelings, Jackie boy, but we don't lose," the Meister commented to herself, her breath appearing in front of her face as she eased her posture. Beside her, Kiana flashed bright as she returned to her human form, slumping down into the snow on her hands and knees.

"You lekker, Vicky?" she questioned with labored breating, her flesh once again exposed to the dropping temperatures.

"Yup, I'm good. A few cuts and some glass in my bum, but I'm alright," Victoria answered with a wince as she sat down. "I'm sure I'm going to have fun explaining this one to Miss Nygus."

"Better be glad its glass in your arse and not my foot," the Weapon quipped, picking herself up to take the corrupted soul in her hand and swallow the slippery mass whole.

"Forty-six down," she counted, thankful that this particular mission was finally under wraps. "We're making lekker pace on these missions. Now let's get off this rock, report in to Lord Death, and go home. My bits are already starting to freeze off again."

"Can we take a little breather for a few minutes?" the Aussie questioned with a light pant. "This altitude took a little bit more out of me than I thought."

About facing in her sandaled feet, Kiana begrudgingly trudged back towards the road that would lead her back down the mountainside into town, rubbing at her exposed skin and muttering expletives to herself.

"I'll take that as a no," Victoria sighed to herself as she lifted her rear out of the snow and jogged lightly to catch up with her straying partner.

"You know, sometimes I think you need a little more 'easy come, easy go' in your life," she remarked offhandedly as they meandered down the road and into the night. "You seem a little stressed out."

The jab that followed into her arm was the only response she would get until they found themselves back in the sleepy town at the base of the mountain.

* * *

The hour had long since struck past anything decent as the faint glow of two equally spaced reading lamps cast their light on the myriad of parchments and documentation that lay in an organized state of disarray about the dark wood desk in front of him. Scanning through hand written notes, cryptic runes and hieroglyphs, and stacks of printed files, the shinigami burned the midnight oil in hopes that somehow he would be able to come to a conclusive meaning behind everything that had transpired in the last year.

Although she was most assuredly dead, Medusa Gorgon continued to remain a parasite that wouldn't stop eating at his thoughts. The true meaning of why she had done exactly what she did continued to haunt him despite the inevitable fact that he probably would never get a conclusive answer. Only she would have been able to tell him that. It was true that she had hoped to create a true kishin in the ways of Crona, Ragnarok, and the Black Blood. She had also hoped to, in her own sinister way, put a static world back into evolutionary motion through the resurrection of the Kishin Asura. There was no doubt about it that the woman was an embodiment of evil, but what had been her true end game? What had she hoped to accomplish by plunging the world into madness?

There was the obvious answer that she had planned to control Crona once they reached the level of true kishin; but then why release Asura for risk of Crona falling victim to his overwhelming wavelength? The only logical conclusion he could come to was that she had planned for Crona to defeat Asura and consume his soul, effectively becoming a next-generation kishin puppet through which she could control the Madness at her very whim. In that sense, hadn't her plan partly come to fruition with the Black Blood Moon?

But what if she had bet on Crona and lost? What would she have done then, he asked himself.

There was also the lesser theory that her Pull of Magic was at a level far more advanced than any of the other witches, causing an uncontrollable desire to merely watch the world tear itself apart from the inside out. However, he knew that everything that she had done was too cunning and well thought out to be the mere result of destructive temptation. What she had accomplished had taken centuries of careful patience and manipulation that eventually cumulated in a deadly chain reaction of events, leaving no life untouched by her actions. That included him as well.

So now here he was, the new Lord Death, left to stand as a symbol of hope, unity, and peace for a world that had teetered on being all but consumed by madness. It was a status he humbly accepted, although he now had more on his plate to handle than ever before. First and foremost, he was now the head authority of Shibusen and all of its subsequent activities. Reports from stations all around the globe filtered in at a constant rate from dispatched teams, and he was expected to keep track of and help direct them all. Alongside that major responsibility, his advances in relations with the Witches' Coven were at the moment stagnant, with Kim and Jacqueline doing everything in their power to sway their stubborn grudges. And lastly, the matter that troubled him most when he wasn't dealing with his other priorities was the fallout of Medusa.

At this rate he was running the risk of adding another ring of white hairs to his head.

A soft rapping at his study door broke his concentration as the lines on the paper began to blur with his weariness.

"Yes?" he called out, shaking himself back to an alert state of mind.

"Kid?" Liz's voice questioned worriedly as she entered with a creak of the door, dressed in her pink designer night robe and her hair pulled up into a bun. "What are you still doing up? It's almost four in the morning."

"Is it really that late already?" he questioned evenly, turning to spy one of the two grandfather clocks he kept synchronized symmetrically on either side of the room. Seeing that their faces did indeed show that he had lost track of time in his focused state of mind, he gave a tiresome stretch before neatly reorganizing the file he had been musing on.

"So it would appear," he replied, making sure that everything he had been working on was in its proper arrangement before he turned in for the night.

Watching the fatigued young man still hard at work even at such an hour, it was difficult for the Demon Pistol to stand idly by and not speak up.

"Kid, you have to stop doing this to yourself," she admonished softly. "I know your job is a big responsibility, but you can't keep pulling these all-nighters. You're going to run yourself into the ground. It's not good for you, shinigami or not."

"Yes, I know, but my mind won't allow me to rest until I have everything in order," he responded, turning off the lamps and pushing his seat neatly back underneath the desk. "Sometimes I wonder how Father ever managed to deal with all of his responsibilities and still remain in as good of spirits as he did."

Turning the light off to the study, he and Liz made their way slowly through the silent halls of Gallows Mansion back towards their respective sleeping quarters.

"Well I'm pretty sure he didn't do it on only two hours of sleep a night," the Demon Pistol replied. "I know you're trying to create your new sense of order, Kid, but something's going to give at some point if you don't stop this. The world's not going to change overnight, and you can't force it to. You need to give all of this time to sort itself out."

"Yes, I suppose you're right, Liz," Kid sighed. "But there's just so much that needs to be done right now."

"Well at least do me a favor and sleep in tomorrow," she implored. "You're starting to get those hideous dark circles under your eyes. And I'll be damned if I'm about to let Lord Death walk around in public with baggy skin."

A weary chuckle escaped him at her request.

"I wish I could, but we have a faculty meeting at eight," he reminded.

"What are you talking about?" Liz questioned flatly. "It's Saturday. There's no meeting today."

Stopping dead in his tracks, a puzzled look spread over the shinigami as he took a longer amount of time than usual to remember just what day of the week it actually was.

"Very well then. Perhaps some sleep would do me some good," he admitted reluctantly as he made his way towards his perfectly symmetrical bedroom for some much needed recovery. "Goodnight, Liz."

"Night, Kid," she answered softly as she made her way back towards her own bedroom.

Passing through the halls of the manor, the woman let our a tiresome groan.

"If I start getting wrinkles from having to worry about him all the time there's going to be hell to pay," she sighed to herself.

* * *

**Author's Note: **

**Ag- Pronounced "ach", a common exclamation that generally means "Oh!", "Oh no!", or "Oh bloody hell!".**

**Are you mal?- Are you crazy/ insane? **

**Arse- British slang for ass.**

**Blaady- bloody**

**Buggar- General derogatory word depending on the context of the sentence. Calling someone a "buggar" implies they're a bastard. Saying "Buggar!" is along the lines of saying "Oh crap!". And "Buggar me!" is along the lines of saying "Ah, f**k me!". **

**Crikey- General Australian term conveying surprise. If you never watched Crocodile Hunter as a kid, I pity you.**

**Izit- Is that so? **

**Ja/Nee- Yes/ No**

**Lekker- Good **

**I probably won't add any more slang than this for the two of them. I'm completely ignorant on these phrases and go by what the internet tells me, so please feel free to correct me on any of these.**


	10. Better the Devil You Know

Chapter 10: Better the Devil You Know: Something About Old Dogs and New Tricks?

"So this is where you…work?" a befuddled and off put voice spoke out to the otherwise empty establishment that her acquaintances had been surprisingly eager to drag her along to. Staring around at the sensory overload of plush purple couches, lavish golden trim, bright pink hearts, and lit candles, the woman in question shifted around uncomfortably on one of the love seats with a flute of champagne in hand, spurred on by its two owners.

From appearances alone, the woman seemed slightly older than her fellow witches at somewhere around her early to mid thirties. This however, as with all witches, was a highly deceptive ruse as she was in actuality somewhere in the realm of over seven hundred years old. Despite having a hint more maturity in her features, she still maintained a youthful complexion of soft white skin and fair curves. Outfitted in a sleeveless dress in a gradient of cerulean blue to light green, the garment was composed of a hexagonal honeycomb pattern throughout its weaving, cut out in the middle along her shoulders and cleavage to allow the flesh beneath to peek through. Wavy viridian hair cascaded lightly down her nape while the twin bangs that fell in front of her cheeks curled into jade spirals.

Plopping down beside her in a separate seat with drink in hand, the first of the two who had dragged her to such a gawdy place laughed light-heartedly at her observation.

"Yep-yep!" a bright-eyed Taruho Firefly, stage name Arisa, replied giddily. "Isn't it great?! Tabatha and I started it from practically nothing and now ChupaCabra's is the top cabaret in Death City!"

"Really?" the woman replied in surprise, taking a sip of her drink. "Well I suppose that is something to be proud of. And it's just the two of you working here?"

"Well we started out with just us two, but we found Milo here to be our bartender. We also have another girl, Blair, but she has the day off," Tabatha Butterfly, stage name Risa, replied as she joined the conversation.

"I see," the green-haired witch replied with a tinge of intrigue, fidgeting with the hem of her dress as it rode up her thighs. "And you're both…comfortable? You know, with your line of work? And with being so close to Shibusen?"

Looking from their anxious guest to one another, the two women suppressed their giggling amusement at the question.

"We're entertainers, not 'ladies of the night'," Tabatha answered with a bubbly smile. "Our customers come in after a long day and want to unwind, so we help them relax. We get them a drink, listen to them rant about work or their wives or whatever, and just make them feel special for however long they're willing to pay for it. You can be rest assured that we don't sell 'those kinds' of services here."

"Although…," Taruho grinned slyly. "Every now and then we might have a little 'after work treat'. Like a nice piece of Academy man candy."

Nearly choking on her drink, the blue-clad witch was caught completely off guard by the bold statement as the two younger women burst into a fit of unabashed laughter.

"I hope you're not insinuating that you…have relations with Shibusen," she gasped as she tapped her fist against her chest repeatedly to clear her lungs, although it was at that precise moment that her memory was jogged back to the trials several months ago. The two ladies before her had been sentenced to death for not only their betrayal of the Coven for their ties to Arachnophobia, but also for their relations with Death Scythe.

"And what if we do?" Tabatha countered with a chuckle as she took a sip of wine she had poured for herself. "The Coven and Shibusen are allies now. There's nothing that says we can't."

"I understand that, but there's still a stigma attached to anything related to Shibusen. You know that."

"Then why did you ask us to bring you to Death City?" Taruho replied innocently, catching the witch off guard. "Didn't you want us to help you get to know everyone better?"

"Well…yes," the woman replied, now fiddling with her dress as she was put uncomfortably on the spot. "I know I said that I wanted to know more about what Shibusen is really like, but I suppose my idea didn't exactly involve meeting the regulars of a gentleman's club."

"Beggars can't be choosers," the Firefly Witch pointed out. "Besides, the guys that come here aren't all bad. Most of them are actually pretty nice when you get to know them. Really they're just lonely and need someone to talk to."

"Lonely and wealthy," the Butterfly Witch added with a laugh.

Taking a long, painful gulp, the newcomer to Lord Death's domain finished off the contents of her glass before pointing her finger towards the bottle, watching as it levitated to give her a second dose of its bubbly contents.

"You're both insufferable," she huffed in joking conceit.

From the front of the small establishment, the tinkling of the bell above the door alerted the three women and the bartender that their first customer of the day had arrived. Standing up excitedly out of habit, the two hostesses hurried over to greet their guest. Leaving the third member of their witches' social momentarily to her own devices, the woman took the opportunity to peek over the dividing wall that separated their booth from the others. Catching a glimpse of the cherry red mop of lengthy hair that partially obscured the man's face, she had to do a quick double take at the entirety of his attire to make sure she wasn't witnessing what she hoped was only an illusion brought about by bad champagne.

"Hi, Death Scythe-sama!" Tabatha and Taruho both sang happily in unison to their most loyal of customers.

Sure enough, the man that now approached the booth with her fellow witches wrapped around each arm was none other than the most powerful of the late shinigami's Death Scythes; the infamous Spirit Albarn. There was no mistaking it by his attire and that perverse grin on his face that it would have been any other Death Scythe.

"You're early today, Death Scythe-sama," Taruho observed endearingly as he led them towards their usual spot at the rear of the cabaret.

"What can I say, this place is like catnip to me," Spirit joked heartedly. "Speaking of which, is the pretty kitty in today?"

"No, Blair has the day off," Tabatha replied.

"That's alright. I still have you two lovelies to keep me entertained, right?" he grinned mischievously, pulling them closer to him.

"Oh, Death Scythe-sama, you're so bad!" Taruho squealed.

Rounding the corner with the witches in tow, the Death Scythe was stopped dead in his tracks by the enticing sight before him. Showing almost complete disregard for the two ladies clinging to his arms, he shrugged them off as he bounded over the table in front of him to land himself perfectly alongside the viridian-haired, cyan-eyed beauty.

"Why, hello there!" Spirit greeted deviously with a toothy grin as he pressed himself uncomfortably close to the stunned witch. "Nobody told me that ChupaCabra's had added a pretty new face. I can't say I've ever seen you around here before. The name's Spirit, but everyone just calls me Death Scythe. What can I call you, besides gorgeous?"

Rearing back in a mixture of slight repugnance and shocking disbelief at the boldness of his actions, the witch pressed herself uncomfortably against the loveseat to keep some sort of distance between her and the daring Weapon.

"My, your reputation certainly precedes you, Death Scythe," she replied with a forced chuckle. "You sure do know how to charm a lady, although I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I don't work here. I'm just here to see the city."

"I take it you must be from the Coven then?" Spirit deducted smoothly. "Well if you want I would be more than happy to give you the grand tour. Anything for a friend of the lovely Miss Tabatha and Miss Taruho's."

"Nuh-uh-uh, Death Scythe-sama," the Butterfly Witch scolded playfully with a wag of her finger. "You know the rules; no using real names. When we're on the clock its Risa and Arisa."

"You're still going on with that?" he questioned flatly. "We all know who you are, so why keep up the stage names?"

"We have our reasons," she replied cutely.

Rolling his eyes dismissively at her response, his attention had almost been deviated away from the unknown witch sitting less than a foot away from.

"So how about it? I can show you around if you would like," he proposed suavely. "We can even make it a night on the town? A little dinner then a tour around? Maybe end it with some nice drinks?"

"I appreciate the offer, but I believe that we were planning on having a girls' only sort of outing, weren't we?" she halfway lied with a slight cringe on her face.

Looking for any sort of assistance in her predicament, she glanced over Death Scythe's shoulder towards her fellow witches only to find Taruho giving her a knowing wink and a thumbs up.

"No, no, we'll be fine on our own! You two should go have some fun!" she answered. "Trust us, Death Scythe-sama knows some really good places around town."

Much to her own horrified astonishment that a fellow witch would blatantly commit such an act of betrayal, she could feel the proximity to the redhead close by an inch or two.

"C'mon, you know you want to," he pressed with a smirk, making a move to place his hand atop her thigh. "A night on the town if you'll tell me your name. Seems like a pretty fair trade to me."

Watching the persistent conversation between the two grow into a blatant fraternization attempt, Tabatha couldn't help but confide her worries in her fellow hostess.

"Should we let Death Scythe-sama patronize her like that?" she whispered covertly to Taruho. "I know he's a player, but we do have rules against this kind of thing."

The answer to her question came in the form of a nearly impossible to see movement where the older witch caught the Death Scythe's wandering hand just before making contact with her leg. With as much politeness as she could, she moved the perverse digits away from her with a knowing squeeze of the wrist.

"I think it's alright," Taruho giggled as she watched Spirit's cockiness deflate in an instant. "She looks like she has it under control."

Maintaining what little distance was available to her, the witch eyed the lewd man for several seconds as she thought about his proposition. Anything resembling a date was certainly not on her list of things to do while she visited Shibusen, especially with one of its most recognizable figures. However, she had come in hopes to see the city and her options at the moment were divided between staying with the cabaret hostesses, who were barely acquaintances at best, accepting the redhead's offer, or wandering around unescorted by herself. Even if she did stay with the two women, which seemed less like a viable option at the moment, it would probably end with a night at the bars and far more flirtatiousness for attention than she could stomach. And while she was confident that she could handle walking around by herself with the help of her Soul Protect spell, there was still the fact that she was a witch in the shinigami's domain despite the treaty. The worst case scenario played through her head that she would be exposed by some less than welcoming Meister or Weapon and be forced to use her magic in defense. Although this scenario was highly unlikely and she could pin the blame of the part of Shibusen, it would lead to a very unpleasant situation that she preferred to not be a part of. However, if she were to be escorted by someone actually from Shibusen itself, she would most likely be able to avoid any form of confrontation.

Twitching her brow in slight annoyance and discontent for the decision she was about the make, she turned her cyan orbs to meet his awaiting ones of slated blue.

"I'll consider it, Death Scythe, but I have my conditions," she replied with a tint of forewarning in her tone. "For starters, I'm a lady first and a witch second. You can call it 'a night on the town' or whatever you wish, but if you get grabby you may just find your hands magically replaced with pig's feet. Secondly, for my own safety you will not under any circumstances reveal that I'm a witch to anyone. Understood? I'm not ready for that unwanted attention just yet. And lastly, because of that I'll give you an alias that you can call me. If you can keep to my first two conditions then I may just tell you my real name."

Releasing her hold on his wrist, she allowed the flabbergasted Weapon a moment to tend to his wounded pride.

"Jeez, playing hardball aren't you?" he questioned, rubbing the area where her nails had dug slightly into him through his jacket. "Do you really not trust me enough to let me know your name? Just what kind of guy do you take me for?"

"Like I said before, you're reputation precedes you," she parried evenly. "Those are my terms. Take them or leave them."

From the seat beside them, the explicit giggling from their two onlookers only confirmed that the Weapon was digging his own grave by asking such questions.

"She has you there Death Scythe-sama," Taruho pointed out.

"Touché…," Spirit replied flatly, at a slight loss for words and now unsure if he was having her chase after him, or if the woman had just flipped the entire script without him realizing it.

It was hardly an answer of adoration that he was accustomed to by women of the past, but it still wasn't a definitive no either. He should have been in a state of elation at her agreement, because in all fairness he could easily keep to her conditions, but the manner in which she was already setting boundaries was throwing him off his game. Sure, he had been rejected just as many times as he had succeeded when it came to women dealing with his promiscuous advances, but it had been a long time since he had been put into a position where he had to put in anything resembling an effort.

Although as far as the Death Scythe was concerned, a woman that played hard to get was just begging to be swept off their feet by his contagious charm.

"Alright then, I'll accept your terms," he said smugly. "I've already got a few places in mind that a more _sophisticated_ woman like yourself might enjoy."

Whether he placed emphasis on that particular word in order to butter her up or if he had something a little more devious in mind, she really couldn't tell. All she knew was that somehow in the span of the last five minutes she had gone from idle chit-chat and gossip to spending an evening with one of the most recognized, in both positive and negative ways, of Shibusen's authority figures. She deducted that the Madness wavelength must have momentarily returned, because what she was on the verge of doing was borderline insane. Even though they were technically on good terms now, if anyone in the Coven caught wind that she was going to spend a night with a Death Scythe she would never hear the end of it, even if their relationship was less than that of even strangers.

"In that case we have an agreement," the viridian-haired witch replied, showing no real enthusiasm by the prospect as she took a distracting sip of her champagne. "You can meet me here at sunset. Seeing as how you're so adamant about this, I hope you won't keep me waiting."

Finishing off her second flute of the bubbling spirit before the clock had even struck noon, she stood up from her seat and made her way for the door with a certain grace that indicated a wanting to leave without appearing to rush out.

"Risa, Arisa, it's been a pleasure, but I'll leave you to your work. Seeing as how our plans have changed, I have a few things I need to go take care of back at the Coven."

"Aww, leaving already?" Taruho pouted. "But you just got here."

"I'm sorry, I know I'm being a discourteous guest, but I don't want to feel like I'm overstaying my welcome," she replied with a smile. "I know your time is important when you're working, so I don't want to interrupt you and Death Scythe. Besides, I'll be back another time and we can talk about all we want then, alright?"

"Oh… okay then," the Firefly witch replied with some dejection. "I guess we'll see you later."

"Just hold on a minute," Spirit cut in. "You still haven't given me a name yet. At least give me something to go on."

Halting just before exiting the building, the woman glanced at the almost pitiful expression of want that shone in the Death Scythe's eyes. There was such a profound need to know that it was as though he would burst into tears if denied any further.

"You really are a tenacious one, aren't you?" she questioned, her lips curling into a wry smile. "Although I suppose we did have an agreement. In that case, you can call me Hex. And remember, don't keep me waiting."

Giving a friendly parting wave, the woman slipped her way out the door without any protest. Now free of their customer's momentary distraction, Risa and Arisa both turned their attention to their loyal regular, grinning ear to ear.

"Ooh, Death Scythe-sama has a date!" Taruho announced childishly, unable to suppress her excitement. "A date with a witch!"

"I'm not so sure I would call it a date, but it's definitely something," Tabatha interjected. "I'm still trying to figure out what just happened here."

"Who cares?! This calls for a drink, right, Death Scythe-sama?!"

Waving her finger in the air, she brought a fresh bottle of wine over to their booth, its cork unwrapping and popping on its own accord. Pouring out fresh glasses for the three of them, the two entertainers took to their duties as hostesses, curling up cozily on either side of the Weapon.

"Cheers!" the witches sang together.

However, the man didn't seem to notice as he sat there with glass in hand and a thousand mile stare on his face.

"Something wrong, Death Scythe-sama?" Tabatha inquired. "You don't seem too happy?"

Staring idly at the door of the cabaret, the sound of her voice brought him out of his momentary trance. Shaking his head dismissively, he returned his attention to the women beside him.

"Huh? Oh, I'm fine. Don't you worry about that," he reassured with a knowing squeeze around their shoulders. "I just had one of those moments where I thought I forgot something important."

"Like what?"

Standing up, he patted his pants and his jacket pockets to see if he had misplaced anything at home.

"Hmm…keys…check…wallet…check…watch…check…," he counted off as he searched himself. "I know I took a shower this morning. Did I leave the toaster on? No, that's not it."

"Guess it couldn't have been that important then," Tabatha observed. "Whatever it is, it'll come to you."

All of his everyday items seemed to be on his person at the moment, so why couldn't he shake the feeling that it was something he wasn't supposed to forget?

"Wait a second…" he paused in deep contemplation. Searching his brain for what it was that he was failing to recall, it took an exceptionally long time before the realization hit him like a sack of bricks.

"I was supposed to have a father-daughter date with Maka tonight!"

* * *

In the sweltering humidity of the midday heat wave, the tinkling of brass rings echoed heavily through the air as they caught the edge of hardened crimson steel, clanking audibly with the flash of metal upon metal. Swiping one another to the side, the opponents slid back several feet before pouncing headlong back towards each other.

"_Mirika, watch your legs. He likes to aim low," _Shuvo cautioned as the edge of the lengthy, aggressively shaped blood red glaive came slashing next to them.

"I've got it, no problem," Mirika answered, catching the pole Weapon against one of the khakkhara's prominent outer rings to deflect it. As if to demonstrate her point, she turned the face of the Weapon flat, allowing the tip of the glaive to slide through the middle of one of the circles upon its next thrust. Giving a twist of the wooden handle, she rotated Shuvo rapidly, prying the war blade from its owners grasp and flinging it out of reach. Now rendered completely vulnerable, her target never stood a chance as the dual-eyed Meister came charging in with Shuvo's dagger ready to impale. But rather than finish her opponent off with the Weapon, she moved the staff to her side as she freed her right hand. With a balled up fist, she closed in rapidly to ram her knuckles deep into its gut.

"Freeze," an even voice announced with just enough gusto to get his point across, causing the Meister to pull her punch mere inches from completion. Dropping her fist to her side, she stepped away from the cowering boy who was still braced for the arrival of the impact. From the ground behind them, the flash of ruby fluorescence shone bright as the glaive reverted back into its human form.

"What was that?!" her opponent in the ways of a young black-haired boy denounced with an accusing finger. "You were going to punch me?! This is just supposed to be practice!"

"All's fair in love and war," Mirika replied, resting the monk staff across the width of her shoulders. "Kishin aren't going to let up on you, so why should I?"

"What's your problem?!" the glaive, a young girl with light brown hair tied into buns fired back as she rushed to her Meister's side. "Mister Harvar told us to practice spar only!"

"And that's what I did. Not my fault that your Meister almost pissed himself in the process."

"I did not almost piss myself!"

"That's enough, all of you," Harvar declared firmly to his mentees. If you really want to spar then save it for after class, although I wouldn't expect it to be much of a fight. Frankly, you all have a long ways to go."

After a week of intensive observation and deliberating, Sid and his teaching assistants had come to a finalized draft of which Meister and Weapon pairs would be assigned to whom. Luckily for them, none of their students had taken the full three weeks allotted to them by Lord Death, making the selection process easier to narrow down. All in all, each of the four mentors was assigned seven pairings to their undertaking that best suited their assumed abilities. Being a pole-based Weapon himself, Harvar was now in charge of guiding his band of likely- specialized novices into something resembling capable teams.

"Mirika, you have aggression, that much is certain, but your method of fighting is sloppy," he critiqued evenly. "I'll give you credit for that disabling maneuver, but everything else was too loose. You're trying to use your Weapon in a way it's not intended for. And do you really think you're going to be able to take down a kishin with a punch? Unless you're somehow on the same level as Black Star, I seriously doubt it."

"Shuvo, you did a good job of noticing a pattern in your opponent's attacks. That's showing initiative as your Meister's second set of eyes, and any important information you can convey in a battle is critical. I know you don't have much of an attacking capability, and we'll work on that, but for the time being you're showing that you can grasp the fundamentals of being a Weapon in combat."

"Matteo, you can't cower away if you're ever disarmed like that. In fact, you should never allow yourself to be separated from your Weapon in the first place, but in the case that you are you use whatever means necessary to get her back. You probably won't like me saying this, but Mirika has a point that all's fair in a real fight. This may just be practice, but there's no referee when battling enemies and they won't play by the rules. Always be on the lookout for any dirty trick that a kishin will pull."

"And Ruby, you need to speak up. Just because you're a Weapon doesn't mean you're along for the ride. You need to be as active in a battle as your Meister. Be his second eyes and ears. Feed him information that he can use."

From off in the distance, the eight-note ding of the period bell indicated that their time for the class was finished. The shrill screech of Sid's whistle followed suit as the Weapons reverted back to their human forms and congregated around their mentor.

"Alright, that's it for the day," the pragmatist announced to his fourteen subordinates. "Take some time during the weekend and work on what I told you."

Released from G.W.A.A.R.'s instruction, Mirika and Shuvo joined the exiting throng of students to head back inside to get changed for gym with Nygus before they could enjoy their long awaited weekend. Walking side-by-side back into the temporary relief of the Academy's interior, the low gurgling rumble of the monk's stomach caught their attention.

"Hungry?" the Meister deducted easily.

"Unfortunately yes," the boy replied, clutching his gut with an exhaustive groan. "Most days I am alright, but today is not the case."

"Well then eat something, stupid," she chastised lightly. "I can get you something from the vending machines if you want."

"No, that would go against the Precepts," he explained for the umpteenth time. "I will just have to wait until tomorrow."

"Jeez, again with this? Rules or not, you know you're no good to me when you're hungry. I don't need you blacking out on me again."

"I know, but it cannot be helped. I mean no offense, but the donuts and fast food in the mornings are not exactly sufficient enough for me. I need something more sustainable."

"Well, I can wake up earlier and make you something," Mirika offered with a hint of reluctance. "It's a pain and my cooking ain't that great, but I can try it."

"No, do not trouble yourself. I just need to make it through gym and then I will rest until tomorrow."

"Whatever, just don't say I didn't offer," the Meister shrugged.

Parting their separate ways upon reentering the interior of the Academy, they each made their way towards their respective changing rooms to ready themselves for one more hour in the heat before they could officially call it a week.

Making his way towards his designated locker space, Shuvo reluctantly began undressing for the final period. While he didn't particularly mind all the exercises that Miss Nygus put them through on a daily basis, by the end of the day he was starting to become increasingly exhausted to the point where his stamina would suffer. He knew full well that the mummified nurse had cautioned him to watch his eating habits, but somewhere in it all he was still trying to draw the line where his duties as a Weapon and as a monk diverged. Something was quickly going to have to give if he was going to keep this up, although he didn't necessarily want either of the two aspects of his life to fall to the wayside.

Begrudgingly, he slipped into his track uniform and waited patiently for the next bell to ring as the boisterous clamor of boys went about talking about their plans for the weekend, video games, or their class work.

"Dude, Matteo, who do you think is hotter; Cassandra or Allyson?"

And of course the less than chivalrous teenage locker room perversions.

"Dude, they're like twelve," the black-haired boy from earlier replied, turning to face the half street, half professionally dressed boy with the deep purple hair.

"And you're thirteen, idiot. Your point?" the tri-ponytailed Meister countered.

"Whatever. I don't think either of them are that hot," he huffed. "Cassandra's too flat and Allyson's too bossy. Besides, there's only one woman I've got my eyes on."

"If you say Miss Tsubaki you're wasting your breath," the boy replied with a mocking timbre. "You and every other guy in class. And in case you forgot, remember who her Meister is."

"Shut up, Remmy! I can dream if I want to!"

This was another aspect of being immersed in a highly different culture that the monk was quickly trying to adapt to and avoid at all costs. From his experience, or lack thereof, girls were just a subject that was never brought up when one was raised in a monastery.

"Hey, 'Teo, you're living with Ruby, right?!" another boy called out jokingly. "You gotten to see any of that sweet rack yet?"

"You wanna die?!"

"No, but I wouldn't mind seeing her in a bikini!"

Figuring it was probably best to leave the situation be, Shuvo made his way past his classmates and out the door into the second bombardment of sweltering desert heat, not really feeling the desire to see how their squabbling would play out. He had better things to concern himself with than who was the most attractive of the opposite gender.

Sitting himself on a bench beside the track, he saw Miss Nygus devoid of her wrappings off in the middle of the field having a discussion with a lingering Mister Sid. What they were conversing about was his best guess, although it was probably about the progress of their students. It had taken a fair amount of getting used to, but the monk no longer found the zombie as alarmingly peculiar as he had upon his first impression. He was firm with his students, but always there to lend a hand when he saw someone struggling.

That particular thought brought him to another rather unpleasant topic. As much as he appreciated the help of the G.W.A.A.R. instructors, the fact still remained that he was a Weapon without much practicality. Mirika could only do so much with him offensively and was limited defensively to deflecting and disarming lighter attacks. When it came right down to it, he knew that in their partnership that he was the weaker link. It was a fact that bothered him, although he gave himself a bit of leeway to not be too harsh on himself. Everyone in the N.O.T. course still had a significant mountain to climb to reach their potential. What he really needed to do was get his Soul Gate under control, although he didn't necessarily know how to go about doing that at the moment. If he could alleviate that problem before it became too apparent, then he would feel as though he could contribute more to their partnership.

The interruption of his gurgling stomach, however, alerted him to a more immediate issue at hand.

"Yes, I know you are hungry and I will feed you when I can," he mumbled to his gut. "Please just have some patience."

"Who are you talking to, Shuvo?" a soft voice questioned curiously.

Looking up from his clenched stomach, he found the familiar orbs of pink watching him from behind their thin-rimmed glasses. Wondering how she had been able to sneak up on him without his Soul Perception going off, he really didn't know. Perhaps the emptiness was beginning to tamper with that as well.

"Oh, good afternoon, Yumi," he greeted politely, putting on a cheery face as he tried to disregard the somewhat revealing attire she was made to wear for the class. At the very least, he could take solace in the fact Mirika chose to wear knee length compression shorts in lieu of the standard bottoms. "I was just talking to myself. I know that must sound odd to you."

"Nuh-uh, lots of people do it," the Demon Musket replied, shaking her head. "Were you talking to your stomach?"

"I suppose I was," he chuckled lightly. "I did not get a good meal this morning, so I am feeling a little exhausted right now."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," the girl replied sincerely. "I hope you'll feel better tomorrow."

"Thank you, I hope so too. How is your training going so far with Mister Sid? Did you and Remmy get all of your paperwork filled out?"

"We're doing alright I guess," she answered with a meek smile. "Mister Sid is stern, but he's helping us work on the basics. Remmy tends to get easily…frustrated… at times, but we're still new to this. And yes, we did get our paperwork in, so as of this afternoon we're officially partners. I'm really hoping that we will be a good team."

"I know you will both do great," Shuvo supported. "Remmy is a capable Meister and you have a strong soul."

Blushing lightly at the honesty in his statement, the Arisaka was taken aback for a moment.

"I-I…thank you," she managed to force out.

From atop the roof of the gym building, the ringing of the bell was their indication to prepare for another dose of Miss Nygus's torture. Flooding out of the school doors, the mass of freshly changed Meisters and Weapons returned their way back onto the track.

Calling their attention with the piercing shriek of her whistle, the nurse turned fitness instructor stood before her class ready to dish out her orders.

"Alright, twenty laps warm up! Hop to it!" she barked. "You're doing suicide sprints today."

* * *

**To be continued...**


	11. Shibusen's Ladies of Mercy and Fury

Chapter 11: Shibusen's Ladies of Mercy and Fury: The Divine Feminine and the Sacred Emasculated?

Filtering in through the shaded window, the faintest slivers of white and gold slipped their way past the blinds and into the silent presence of the spiritualist's contemplations. Sitting easily in his lotus position, Shuvo embraced the stillness of the cracking dawn, pushing the lingering discomfort of the prior day to the back of his thoughts. Mornings and evenings were always his time to embrace his musings, no matter the circumstances, and an empty stomach was surely not going to stand in his way of sticking to his regiments. Besides, the early dawn was the only time of day when Mirika was not insistent on playing her instruments or listening to her music.

His room was sparse in its furnishings, as he preferred it, with only his mattress on the floor with thin white sheets, his schoolwork and books neatly arranged on the desk, and his few possessions in their rightful places atop the dresser and windowsill. It was certainly a far cry from the familiarity of the temple he had become so accustomed to over the years, although a dedicated monk should be able to practice his meditations no matter the circumstances. His only real wish was that he had a copy of the grand bronze bell that signaled the beginning of their search for enlightened thought. How he missed the sweet reverberations of its spiritual chime.

Caught in his tranquil state of mind, the young man was in the midst of continuing his internal discussion with himself when a familiar sensation made itself apparent through his Soul Perception. It was a warm presence, but a timid one as well as it seemed to come and then quickly weaken as though in retreat. He recognized its signature almost instantaneously, but had to do a double-take as it had to have been a mistake in some way.

"Surely it could not be," he wondered to himself as he opened his eyes in curiosity. Waiting patiently as he refocused his perceptive ability, he could feel the soul coming closer towards his location along with a second, less familiar soul. A minute passed by in anxious wonderment as indeed the presences came to the threshold of their apartment door before stopping. Seconds passed by in brief hesitation before the pounding of several hard knocks made their audience known.

Unfurling from his meditation to tend to their rather early inquirer, Shuvo had barely made it to his bedroom door before another flurry of pounding knocks were heard. Thinking it strange that such force would be required, he moved without any excess rush into the hallway entrance when the thundering slam of the door to his right startled him half to death.

"Dammit! Who the hell is waking me up at seven on a damn Saturday!"

Storming past the justifiably frightened monk with a disheveled head of white and indigo hair, Mirika stomped angrily towards the source of the commotion in nothing more than a loose black t-shirt that barely reached far enough down her torso to cover her underwear. On any normal day she wasn't much of a morning person to begin with, but having been expecting the sweet bliss of sleeping in on her weekend off, the rudeness of her awakening did nothing but significantly exasperate her temper. Too agitated to show any shame in her incomplete state of dress, the Meister quickly undid the locks before throwing the door open with enough force to rattle the walls.

"Mirika, wait! It's…" Shuvo tried to protest to no avail, covering his eyes at her semi-nudity.

"The hell do you want?!" he heard the girl spit with a venomous tongue as she stuck her head out the entrance before she had even the faintest clue of who she was addressing.

Already caught in the motion of his third set of knocks, the closed fist belonging to her unwelcome wakeup call came swinging down, only to find that instead of the resistance of wood there came the squishy give of his hand against her chest. Lingering there for far longer than was appropriate under any circumstances, the inquirer stood there in silent analysis, as though contemplating the seriousness of the situation he had found himself in.

"Morning," the tri-ponytailed Meister Reynaldo "Remmy" Tonne greeted sheepishly. Attempting to hide behind him was a furiously blushing Yumi, watching her Meister's actions in panicked embarrassment with a cloth-wrapped box in hand.

Taking advantage of the opportunity allotted to him, the Demon Musket Meister gave a knowing squeeze of the breast in hand through the loose-fitting cotton.

Looking down in a flustered horrification at the way in which she had been intentionally groped, Mirika's dual eyes erupted into a napalm inferno as she found her fist closing rapidly around the many Death Skull pendants and crosses dangling about his neck, giving a forceful yank to reel the pervert in as she lowered her head. With a furious roar, her skull met his face with a definitive crunch, causing a miniature geyser of blood to erupt from his nostrils as he slumped to the floor in a crumpled heap.

"Remmy!" Yumi cried, nearly dropping her box as the older boy twitched helplessly upon the hallway floor.

"Serves him right. Dumbass," Mirika snarled, standing over his limp form and wanting to give him a kick in the gut for good measure, but restrained herself. Turning about, she stormed past the flabbergasted monk and back into her bedroom to put on some shorts, leaving the two Weapons to deal with the mess she had made.

"I-I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please forgive him," Yumi apologized repeatedly, sinking down beside her partner. Lifting him gingerly face-up, she unfurled the cloth from her box and began to dab at the streams of red running down his face and onto his football jersey.

Shaking his head in dismay at his partner's violent display, Shuvo knelt down alongside her, hearing the boy give a wincing groan as his charcoal eyes flickered open. Forcing a grin, it appeared the brutality of Mirika's headbutt may have knocked a few teeth loose as well.

"Totally worth it," he remarked, giving a thumbs up as he slowly picked himself up with a grunt. Managing to rise to his feet, he immediately fell to one knee, but not due in part to what Mirika had done to him.

"Hail Santa Muerte, for today I stood in the jaws of death and was shielded by Her grace," he recited in invocation. Standing up woozily, he made the sign of a Death Skull by writing a large circle and then three downward points in front of his chest.

Glad to see that Remmy was at the very least still conscious after such a blow, Shuvo hoped that the commotion they had caused hadn't disturbed any of their neighbors.

"No, I am the one who should apologize," he sighed with a deep bow, knowing in actuality that his partner's actions were probably justified, although that didn't necessarily mean that he agreed with them. "Mirika should not have struck you like that. Please, come inside and make yourselves at home. I will get something for your wounds."

Assisting Remmy as he managed to stagger his way through the threshold, Shuvo led the two inside to their quaint dinner table, insisting that they have a seat. Requesting Yumi's cloth wrapping, he bundled some ice within it from the refrigerator and handed the pack over to the boy.

"I'm so sorry, Shuvo," Yumi bowed her blushing face shamefully as she placed the bento box she had been carrying at the center of the table. "I didn't expect this to happen at all. When you told me you hadn't been eating well yesterday, I wanted to help somehow. I'm somewhat familiar with the ways of the monks, so when I got home I made this for you. I know you weren't expecting us, but I wanted to get here early to make sure you got a good meal."

Taking the lid off the black lacquered square, she revealed its contents of steamed rice balls, seasoned cuts of sashimi, spring rolls, and a small lidded container containing miso soup.

"If you don't like it, I can go back and make something else," she added hesitantly.

Looking at the enticing spread before him, it took all the restraint that Shuvo possessed not to immediately dig in savagely to satisfy the hunger within him. Although he had slowly been growing accustomed to Western cuisine, at last he was able to enjoy a little taste of home.

"This looks wonderful, Yumi. No, there is no need for you to trouble yourself any more than you have. I am quite certain that this will be delicious. Thank you very much."

Standing from his seat, he gave her a low Namaste before the rumbling of his gut announced that the time for politeness could wait until afterwards. Taking the chopsticks from the box, he went to work revitalizing himself of nutrients.

"And you didn't even have the common courtesy to make one for me too," Mirika snided humorously, returning from her bedroom with a pair of black shorts on. Giving a sharpened glance to the two visitors, she bore into the injured teen for several seconds as she leaned up against the wall rather than take the only open seat across from him.

"I'm sorry, I can make you one too if you want me to," the musket offered submissively.

"Jeez, you and Shuvo must've been picked from the same tree or something. Quit apologizing all the damn time. It's annoying," she said bluntly. Moving towards the kitchen, she grabbed one of the apples she normally kept in reserve for her Weapon. Noticing out of her peripherals the way Remmy kept watching her with a slight scowl, she barred her canines as she sunk into the fruit, tearing a chunk out of its flesh.

"And I was kidding," she continued with her mouth half full. "You don't have to make me squat. I can eat whenever I want. It's this pain in the ass here I've gotta watch out for."

Giving the khakkhara a pat on the head, much to his displeasure, she would have ruffled his hair if he had any to speak of.

"By the way, how did you know where we live?" she questioned indifferently.

"Yumi's a stalker," Remmy quipped dryly.

"Was I talking to you?" she sneered, reasserting the fact that she was not in any mood to deal with him at the moment, unless it involved her getting to smash a few more of his teeth in. "So, Yumi, _is_ there a creepy stalker hiding underneath that innocent schoolgirl act? Wouldn't surprise me if there was. It's always the goody two-shoed ones you've gotta watch out for."

"W-what?! No!" the junior girl gasped in terror, her face turning a flustered red at the very idea. "I-I'm not a stalker! I found your address in the Academy directory!"

Noticing the ease with which the lavender-haired Weapon could be turned into a nervous wreck by one little joke, Mirika wasn't quite sure how the girl would fare if she actually put in an effort of giving her a hard time.

Shifting her gaze down towards the floor, Yumi shuffled slightly, maintaining an uneasy silence as she was forced to bask in her embarrassment. Taking notice of her predicament, Shuvo caringly intervened.

"Mirika, I believe you are making our guest uncomfortable," he defended politely. "Yumi obviously only wished to deliver this delicious meal and that is all. She is certainly not any kind of deviant."

"Well if she's uncomfortable then that just means I'm doing my job," the Meister grinned devilishly, leaning across the table so that she was nearly nose-to-nose with Yumi, watching with a sadistic satisfaction as she cowered back from the approach.

"Man, you're easier to mess with than Shuvo," she chuckled, deciding to ease up on the girl for the time being as she returned to her position against the wall. "It almost takes all the fun out of it. You sure you're from the Arisaka clan?"

Something about the nature of the question, even in jest, sent a pang of retreat through the soft-spoken Weapon. Keeping to herself, her head lowered in avoidance, a small hint of shame on her face. Taking notice that his partner had said something that obviously struck a discomforting cord with their classmate, the monk quickly looked for something to bring the conversation back onto a more pleasant note.

"So, Yumi, Remmy, what do you have planned for the rest of today?" he questioned cheerfully, finishing off the spring rolls from the bento box as he tried to lighten the mood.

"Nothing really," Remmy replied lazily, adjusting the ice pack around his face so he didn't have to watch the Amesdale girl's daggered glare continue to drill into him as he spoke. "Yumi wants to go to the comic store to get some of her girly Japanese books and that's really about it. I'm probably going to kick the ball around then watch the Brazilian mens' match. Nothing special."

"Do you play football as well?" Shuvo asked, resisting the temptation to just blurt the question out excitedly.

Lifting his chin up in a prideful smirk, the teen pointed to the Death Skull patch sewn onto the breast of his green and black striped kit.

"Not only do I play, I'm the Captain of the Death City Football Club," he announced with an overly-dramatic sense of accomplishment.

Putting her hands over her mouth, Yumi's expression became significantly brighter as she suppressed a giggle.

"What's so funny?" Remmy wondered as his grin waned.

Feigning ignorance, the musket composed herself, not wanting to reveal the reasoning behind her amusement unintentionally.

"Nothing," she smiled innocently.

Deciding to make nothing of the interruption, the Meister turned back to the conversation at hand.

"So, you play?" he questioned.

"I do, although I cannot say I would be nearly as good as you. Do you have any need for another member, though?"

Cocking his brow quizzically, Remmy couldn't help but give a wary once over of the barefooted monk in his cumbersome orange robes. Although, he did have to remind himself that this was the same oddball who chose to run around in gym class without any footwear at all.

"Well, I guess I can always use a sub," he conceded, not showing any particular amount of enthusiasm about the idea. "We have a match tomorrow if you want to come."

"What about today? You said you weren't doing anything after you took me shopping. Why not let Shuvo come practice with you?" Yumi suggested.

"I appreciate the offer, although I am afraid I will have to decline for today," Shuvo apologized sincerely, finishing off the rest of the meal that had been provided to him. "I was planning on going to the Academy's library to do some research for the day."

"Oh, what for?"

"I wish to see if they have any information on Soul Gate and Soul Perception abilities. I have a feeling that mine somehow coincide with one another."

Feeling a strong grip latch hold onto his chair, Shuvo was spun around forcefully to see his very agitated and excited Meister scowling at him.

"Wait, wait, wait, hold up! Did you just say you have Soul Perception?!" Mirika interrogated demandingly. "One, how does a Weapon have Soul Perception?! And two, when the hell were you going to let me know about this?! That kinda would have been a nice bit of information to have at the beginning, you think?!"

Forcing a small chuckle at his predicament, he didn't have the heart to tell her that he would have gladly explained his abilities to her had she bothered to take their first homework assignment seriously. That and the fact she always seemed to seclude herself after day's end, although he supposed he could have told her at any point in their last two weeks together.

"I suppose it slipped my mind," he grinned embarrassingly. "But yes, I actually have a fairly strong Soul Perception. Are Weapons not supposed to have that?"

"Slipped you mind?! You don't just forget to tell your partner that you have one of the rarest skills in the world, idiot! On top of that you're probably one of, if not the only Weapon who has it. It's rare enough for a Meister to have Soul Perception, but I can't believe you have it. This is nuts."

"That's amazing, Shuvo. I didn't know you could do that either," Yumi complimented brightly. "But what's the other ability you mentioned? I've never heard of a Soul Gate."

Contemplating for a moment on the best way to put his ability into words, he was in fact unsure of how to explain it himself. He had only been able to tap into it on a handful of occasions, once with Mirika and the remainder when he was wielded by Bhante. The first time it had happened the senior lama had been as equally perplexed by the phenomenon as his student, unable to give any form of definitive answer to what had transpired.

"It is difficult to explain, but I can feel wavelengths and somehow concentrate them into energy. It requires an intense amount of focus and tranquility, though, and I still do not know anything about it other than that. That is why I am going to the library to see if they have any books that can help me understand it better."

"That's fascinating. Well since you'll already be there you should see if Lord Death is in his office. If there's anyone who could help you with Soul Perception it would be him. I'm not sure if he knows anything about Soul Gates, but it wouldn't hurt to ask."

"That is a good suggestion. I will see if he is in today."

"Well there goes my Saturday. Not like I was gonna do anything important anyways, like sleep," Mirika grumbled, shooting Remmy a poisonous look.

Taking the none-so-subtle hint, the Meister casually stood up from his seat and backed away slowly towards the door in the same way one would back away from a vicious dog.

"Well this has been a blast, but we should probably get going," he remarked skittishly, dumping the remaining ice in the sink as the full extent of his injured nose was shown. "The store opens in thirty minutes and we don't want to be late. Right, Yumi?"

"Yes, we probably should be going. We've already been enough trouble for one day."

"It was no trouble at all," Shuvo happily protested as he placed everything back into the bento box. "On the contrary, it was actually a very pleasant surprise. Thank you very much for the meal."

Giving another low bow in thanks, he kindly helped escort the duo to the door to see them out.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Yumi replied with a small blush. "If you want to, I can make you some meals and bring them to you before school. That way you won't go hungry."

"No, no, please you do not have to do that," the khakkhara objected politely. "You have already done more than…"

"Don't be an idiot, Shuvo. Take the free food," Mirika interrupted. "You don't starve, you get to keep to your monk rules, and I save money on groceries. Sounds like a win all around to me."

"Well…if you insist," he reluctantly submitted, not wanting to feel like he was taking advantage of her generosity.

"Great," the Arisaka beamed. "Well maybe we'll see you tomorrow. Good luck at the library. I hope you find something that will help you."

"Thank you. I hope you have a pleasant day as well."

Giving a friendly parting wave, the Demon Musket and her Meister set out to fulfill their errands and enjoy the early start to their two days free of Academy duties. Just as they were halfway down the hallway, they were halted in their tracks as a commanding voice rang out.

"Hold up," Mirika called evenly, moving behind them quickly much to their surprise. Without bothering to give them any sort of explanation, her fist rose up sharply to catch Remmy squarely in the gut, knocking every ounce of breath out of him as he was lifted clear off his feet and flew down the corridor before skidding to a tumbling halt. Before he even knew what hit him, she caught him by the collar and yanked him up.

"Just in case you forgot," she reminded coolly. "If I hear any rumors floating around about how you 'got boob', you'll be a dead man walking. Comprende?"

Dropping the stunned Meister in the center of the hall, she strode back with a malicious smile on her face.

"Was that really necessary?" Shuvo questioned with a disapproving frown.

"Oh yeah, I needed that," she stated as she made her way to her room, popping her knuckles in satisfaction as she went to get dressed. "It's gonna be a good day after all."

* * *

"You've got a lot of nerve showing your face here. Especially after that stunt you pulled last night."

"Step aside, Soul Eater. I want to talk to my Maka."

"I don't think the feeling's mutual, but whatever. What do I care?"

Opening the door for his senior Death Scythe, Soul unenthusiastically invited Spirit into their apartment. Moving off to the side to enjoy the show, he watched as the redhead approached his daughter, who was at the moment curled up comfortably on the couch with her face buried in a book.

"Maka, sweetie, look who came by to visit! It's your dear sweet Papa!" the Death Scythe announced affectionately with hearts in his eyes.

Showing no acknowledgement of his presence, the Meister licked her thumb and turned the page of her book smartly.

"I just wanted to swing by and give you these," he said, reaching deep into his coat pocket and pulling out two pieces of paper. "They're tickets to that play you've been wanting to see. You know, that one about the alien scientist and everyone's all dressed in fishnets and lingerie. I managed to pull some strings and got us dead center in the front row. Isn't that great?"

Remaining stone faced, Maka's emerald eyes continued to scan the depths of her novel, tuning out her father's petty attempt to win her over with gifts.

"I was thinking that we could go together."

Shuffling in the seat of the couch cushion, she continued to give him the cold shoulder, hoping that he would eventually get the message that she was in no mood to deal with his foolishness.

"I'm sorry, Maka!" he wailed as he fell to the floor and latched onto her leg. "I didn't mean to forget about our date! Please believe me! I had a really good reason! I met someone and I got caught up in the moment and asked her out! We went out for dinner and wine and actually had fun! And I didn't even hold her hand! But I swear I didn't mean to forget about you! Please don't hate me, Maka! Papa loves you!"

Deciding that her concentration was all but lost with her pitiful excuse of a father clinging to her like a babbling baby, she closed her book with a sharp thud and held it in hand.

"Maka Ch..!"

Bracing for the impact of the book's spine against his head, Spirit was surprised when the punishing blow never came. Looking up in befuddlement, he could see the conflicting emotions about her as she held her arm over her head, stopped in mid-strike.

"No… you know what, I'm not going to be mad at you," she harrumphed, forcing herself to put the book away. "In fact, I'm actually happy for you. As much as I hate to say it, it's about time you stopped saying you still love Mama and found someone else. It'll be good for you to stop chasing after bimbos for a change and go on actual dates."

"So…you don't hate me?" he sniffled, wiping the tears and snot away on his sleeve as he remained latched to her leg.

Rolling her eyes in disbelief that her father, a Death Scythe, was reduced to this, she could hear Soul snickering under his breath from the kitchen.

"I'm upset and I'm disappointed, but I can't say I hate you. At least not any more than usual," she huffed. "You were the one who wanted to show me how much you've changed in the first place and then you left me all dressed up waiting all night. Then you try to make _that_ up by buying tickets to the _wrong_ show. I don't know what kind of smut show you just paid for."

From the kitchen they could both hear Soul laughing at the revelation. Overwhelmed by his own sense of embarrassment, Spirit let go of his daughter's leg and returned to his full height, trying his best to play the whole scene off like it was nothing.

"Anyways, Papa, tell me about this woman," she questioned with an indifferent expression, showing that she cared enough to ask, but not enough to appear enthusiastic about it. "What's she like?"

"She's gorgeous, like a turquoise angel!" he drooled, conjuring her image in his head. "An older woman with curves in all the right places and a tight body! Long green hair and shining blue eyes! And judging by that dress she wore, she's probably a solid C cup, too!"

"Did you learn anything about her other than how big her boobs were?" Maka sighed. "Like her name maybe?"

"Well…she didn't exactly ever give me her real name," Spirit confessed, touching the tips of his fingers together in a tick. "She knew about my…reputation…and gave me a fake one."

"Dude, that's seriously uncool," Soul commented smoothly. "A fake name? That's just about the most pathetic thing I've ever heard."

"Can it, shark boy! I don't see you asking any women out! You're a man, aren't you?!"

Rubbing her temples in frustration, Maka did her absolute best not to chop her father with the heaviest book in her collection. She should have known that no matter how much he tried to convince her otherwise, he was always going to be the perverted lecher on the inside.

"Okay, well what was the name she gave you?" she strained to ask out of courtesy. Why she was even giving this conversation the time of day was beyond her at the moment. From what he was telling her, he didn't go out on a date. It sounded more like he got drunk with an escort and was trying to convince her otherwise so she would forgive him for forgetting about their plans.

"Her name was Hex," he recalled affectionately.

"Hex?" Maka replied curiously. "Like another word for a spell?"

"She sure put a spell on me!" the Death Scythe sang giddily.

The gears within the bookworm's head were quickly aligning, putting the pieces of the puzzle together. She didn't want to jump to any conclusions, but she needed to ask him for more details if her theory was going to hold any water. Maybe he wasn't lying about the date after all.

"Papa, where did you meet this 'Hex' woman?" she wondered cautiously.

Caught off guard by the prying inquiry, Spirit's head drooped a little in embarrassment.

"ChupaCabra's…," he replied, much to his daughter's disapproving grimace.

"But it's not what you think! She doesn't work there; she's just a friend of the owners!" he swiftly elaborated in defense with hands in the air.

Given all the information provided, the Two Star couldn't help but connect the clues that her father was blatantly leaving in front of her. It was almost too easy in fact. The mystery woman's alias was synonymous with spells, he had met her at ChupaCabra's, and she was a friend of the cabaret's owners on top of that?

"Papa, did you go on a date with a witch?"

Cornered by her logical deduction, Spirit was vividly reminded of the promise he had made and actually managed to keep throughout the night about revealing Hex's identity. Not once during their time together was anyone ever suspicious that a witch was in their midst, although more than a fair share of the men about town were caught rubbernecking at she passed by. It was still anyone's guess what would happen if the public were to find out witches were strolling around Death City, although judging by the uptick in business at ChupaCabra's it couldn't be that bad. Life in the short time following the battle on the moon had seemingly returned to a sense of normalcy, with everyone going about business as usual. For the most part people and witches continued to keep to themselves, neither of them bothering the other, but very few of them willing to cross the invisible divide onto the other side. Resentment and even hatred between the two races continued to exist, no matter what a piece of paper and Lord Death said.

The Death Scythe tried in vain to fabricate some kind of story to convince her that he hadn't gone out with a witch, but it was all for naught. His Maka was an intelligent girl and sharp as a tack, just like her mother.

"Yeah," Spirit answered reluctantly. "She made me swear not to tell anyone, though. She's just not ready to have people know she's a witch. "

Watching her father give his answer, Maka observed the way in which his tone of voice shifted. It was foreign to see, but did he actually sound ashamed of having broken a promise? It should have irked her that he'd keep a promise for a complete stranger and not for his own child, but she had long given up any hope of seeing the day he stayed true to his word for her. Despite all this, she knew they had come too far as father and daughter to let something like this get between them.

"We won't tell anyone," she said thoughtfully. "Right, Soul?"

"Yeah, sure," the Death Scythe answered dismissively. "What do I care who your dad goes out with?"

"Soul, promise."

"Alright, fine. I promise."

Glad to see that the two teens were willing to keep a secret, the Death Scythe could breathe a little bit easier. The last thing he wanted was to be on the bad side of either his Maka or a witch.

"So, Papa, what is she actually like?" Maka asked with a faint, genuine intrigue. "Besides the boobs, I mean."

* * *

Wandering through the barren, hollow halls of Shibusen, Shuvo and Mirika made their way amongst the corridors without any apparent rush. The only sounds to be heard were the hardened echoes of her boots against the tile floor and the faint squealing of the music coming from the headphones that the Meister had plugged into her ears. It was quite apparent that despite escorting her partner to search for the information he sought, there were about a million other things in the world she would rather be doing on her day off than going to the Academy. With her guitar case in tow, the two passed by their locked and darkened classroom as they ventured towards the library.

"Mirika," Shuvo addressed evenly as they walked.

Caught in the trance-like state of whatever song she was listening to, the girl paid him no mind as she continued on without acknowledgment.

"Mirika," he repeated, tapping her lightly on the shoulder.

"Huh? What?" she questioned, popping one of the earbuds out. "What's up?"

"I was wondering about something you said earlier to Yumi. About her clan," he began.

"Okay? What about it?"

"You asked her if she was from the Arisaka clan, and that seemed to upset her," he recalled. "I do not wish to pry into her affairs, but I was curious about why you said that. I would like to understand so I can avoid saying anything that may accidentally hurt her feelings."

Raising a brow in intrigue, Mirika reached into her pocket to shut her music player off, giving him her undivided attention.

"I'm taking it you don't know anything about the Arisakas?" she remarked.

"No, not at all," he replied. "Are they a shamed clan?"

Letting out a light laugh, Mirika shook her head in contradiction.

"Nah, they're pretty much the opposite of that. They're actually a clan of complete badasses," she clarified. "Remember on the first day of school when Craftlove got all excited and asked about her grandparents? That's because Grandma and Grandpa Arisaka are living legends at the Academy. They set the record for the fastest time to make a Death Scythe that lasted almost fifty years. The only ones to beat that record so far are Maka Albarn and her mom before her."

"Amazing. It certainly sounds like the Arisakas are a highly regarded clan," Shuvo observed. "Although, I fail to see how that would make Yumi upset by your comment."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but the girl's not exactly what I would call a badass," she said matter-of-factly. "She's kinda quiet and easy to pick on. I mean she's nice and all, but she doesn't seem like the kind to put up much of a fight. My guess is she's probably got a lot of pressure on her to live up to the family name. It's actually pretty typical of legacies."

"Legacies?"

"There's a good amount of kids at the Academy that have moms and dads that are Weapons or Meisters. There's also a few kids that come from really well known families that are third, fourth, even fifth generation at the Academy. Some might even be older than that. But the main legacies right now are obviously Lord Death, the Albarns, the Arisakas, the Nakatsukasas, and…"

"And?"

"And…the damn Geminis," Mirika growled, saying the name as though it were toxic.

Knowing all too well the taboo of that particular name, Shuvo decided it would probably be best if he didn't ask the history behind their feud at that point in time. That was best left a story for another day.

At last they approached the doors to the library and made their way inside. For the khakkhara, the chamber brimmed with everything he adored; silence, tranquility, and walls upon walls of untapped knowledge. He hoped that somewhere within the towers of hardbacks there was at least a few that contained the guidance and answers he desired.

For the most part the library seemed as desolate as the remainder of the school, with the exception of a few older students sitting at desks and sifting through piles of books for notes. Not knowing really where to begin in the vast plethora of information, they made their way over towards the reference desk and approached the sharply dressed gentleman manning the station.

"Good morning," he greeted courteously. "How can I be of assistance to you today?"

"Good morning to you as well," Shuvo returned. "I was wondering if you had any books on Soul Perception and Soul Gates that I may take a look at."

"Certainly. May I see your student identification please?"

Reaching into the folds of his robe, the monk produced the small laminated card with his unflatteringly taken photograph on it indicating that he was a first year N.O.T. student. Taking the card in hand, the man retreated to the back room for a moment as he searched the Academy's database for anything that fit the boy's description.

"Yes Sir, it appears we have a fairly wide selection of literature pertaining to Soul Perception on the first and second floors available to N.O.T. students," the man informed, handing Shuvo a printed piece of paper with a series of sections to reference. "However, I'm afraid there is only one book here for your star level that has any mention of Soul Gates. Is that alright with you?"

"Yes please. That would be most helpful."

Thanking the kind man for his assistance, the Weapon set off with sources in hand to find what he had been searching for. Ascending the spiraling staircase up towards the second level, he found the section indicated and began running his finger searching for the single novel pertaining to Soul Gates.

"What's the reference number?" Mirika asked as she went through the rows to aid in his quest.

"Three-eight-five CRA," he read aloud as he found the last names beginning in the C's and began moving through them. Hearing Mirika next to him reading the numbers in a murmur, the two honed in on their prize.

"Three-eight-nine, three-eight-seven, three-eight-five. Here we go," the Meister declared as she pulled a small, leather-bound book about half an inch wide from its appropriate spot. It appeared to be a rather old book by the looks of it, with the binding well into the later stages of separating from the pages. Giving a light flick of her hand, she wiped the accumulated dust off the cover.

"You've gotta be kidding me," she remarked to herself as she stared at the title of the book.

"What is it?"

Looking at the faded ink lettering stamped on the leather, Shuvo could vaguely make out the worn out message without having to strain himself.

"Exotic and Occult Natures of the Spiritual Essence: Volume One. By Aleister Crowley Craftlove."

* * *

**To be continued...**


	12. What Little Good We Intended

Chapter 12: What Little Good We Intended: Did We Learn Nothing From Pandora?

Seated comfortably in his high-backed cushioned chair, the Grim Reaper sipped easily on a batch of herbal tea and watched the cartoonish clouds that listed lazily upon the ceiling of his sanctuary. Both of these things helped to calm his high-strung nerves, which seemed to plague him day by day as he tried to tackle the operation of the DWMA. Even after dividing up the mountain of tasks amongst his subordinates to lighten his own load, the shinigami still found himself always caught in a cycle of being one step behind all that needed to be accomplished. His mind never seemed to settle down anymore, always paranoid through the days and into the late nights that he forgot to notarize a document or failed to make sure he had exactly eight pens on his desk in perfect alignment. It wasn't too often anymore where he could find a peaceful moment, caused in part because of his own neurotic tendencies, although he was slowly growing accustomed to the fatiguing routine.

As well as savoring his calming brew, he took satisfaction in knowing the Thompson sisters were currently enjoying their down time back home and away from the routine of the DWMA. Upon departing Gallows Manor for his pre-scheduled arrangement, Patty had been sprawled out merrily upon the living room floor, scribbling away in a coloring book with a variety of crayons and markers and humming a merry tune as she haphazardly filled the outline of a duck in with shades of purple and yellow. It was plain to see that unlike himself, her current stress level was all but nonexistent. Seated beside her in one of his precisely symmetrical lounge chairs, Liz had been skimming through a fashion magazine, apparently caught in its enticing depths of the latest trends from Paris and London.

The last couple of months following the battle with Asura had been a difficult transition for the three of them, mostly due in part to his now full ascension to a true shinigami. They were no longer his Weapons, although they had been adamant about being his designated assistants and nothing else when given the choice. It was a touching gesture, and something he would never be able to repay them for, but the fact remained that as of late he had been finding them slowly drifting apart. Perhaps it was all in his head, but he was beginning to miss the closeness of their bond, both in the physical sense and the mental. He could no longer feel their symmetrical balance in his hands as he once wielded them, although he could feel their wavelengths all the same. They were still the same Liz and Patty he had come to know and adore, but his duties as Lord Death and theirs as his assistants kept them in a constant state of busyness, often separating them throughout the days and nights. Even in their down time, it was becoming increasingly hard for them to spend time together to enjoy one another's company.

Maybe the old saying had a little bit more truth to it than he previously thought; it really is lonely at the top.

From beyond the expanse of the guillotine arches, his daydreaming was broken as he heard the opening and closing of the chamber doors, bringing with it the guest that he had been hoping the Academy's designated liason would be able to track down. Leading the way into the depths of the Death Room, a stern-faced Kim appeared, followed closely behind by the key to unraveling the final pieces of his late night musings.

"Hello, Kim. Eruka," Kid greeted warmly to the witches, motioning for them to have a seat. "Thank you for coming. I hope that this wasn't too out of the blue for you."

"Hello, Lord Death, kero," the young silver-haired woman in her apparent late teens addressed in a mixture of courtesy and apprehension as she stood before the rounded platform. She was donned in her standard attire of a black and white polka-dotted hoop skirt, high white boots, and a distinctive orange hat that resembled an amphibious face caught in a discomforting frown.

"It was a little unexpected, but at least we're not here against our will this time," she replied, reminding the Reaper of her prior captivity within Shibusen.

"We?" the shinigami questioned, disregarding the subtle jab.

Looking around in a frantic panic, the Frog Witch and Kim both suddenly realized that her traveling companion was nowhere to be seen.

"What?! Where did he go?!" she cried.

As if to answer her, they all heard the doors to the Death Room open with a clamor before a boisterous voice made itself known.

"Ha! Told you I'd find it, Eruka!" the figure announced proudly. "And you said I'd get lost in this place! Wait… Eruka! Where'd you go?!"

"We're in here, Free," the woman replied with an embarrassed groan to the navigationally challenged Immortal. How he ever managed to get separated from them in the last minute was anybody's guess.

"Oh…" the werewolf said nonchalantly as he managed to join the seat beside her as he gazed curiously about the desert landscape. "So this is where the new Grim Reaper lays down his judgment upon the world? I like what you've done with the place."

Eying the werewolf quizzically, Kid surely hadn't been anticipated the arrival of the unofficial guest, although it certainly wasn't like there was no place for him in his presence. The Immortal had more than proved his worth and loyalty to the side of righteousness during the battle upon the moon, despite his previous dealings with Medusa. He did have to admit that it was an interesting turn of events to see how many of those who he once considered his enemies he now called his friends and acquaintances. After all, Eruka and Free were the ones responsible for assisting in the resurrection of Asura, and the former had tried to blow him to tiny pieces with her Tadpole Bombs during their fight in the Academy's catacombs.

"I felt as though I could do a little bit of redecorating," Kid explained simply. "Anyways, I'm glad that we were able to track both of you down. I don't think I'd be able to progress my research much further without your assistance and I really am grateful that you agreed to help with the decoding. It'll help me have a little peace of mind when we can finally unravel the finer details of Medusa's plan."

The mere mention of the vile, twisted woman's name sent a twinge of uneasiness throughout the witch, who had managed to survive as long as she did by complying to her every whim. She knew that the snakes that had been implanted in her body were long gone, although that didn't stop her from continuing to sense them in a phantom syndrome. Every now and then she would awake from the dead of sleep covered in a sheen of sweat, swearing she could feel the serpentine entities slithering through her skin or wrapping around her throat to choke the life from her. As much as she tried to remain strong for her own sanity, reminding herself there was nothing to fear anymore, more often than not she would find herself breaking down into tears from her nightmares.

"I'll do my best, but I can't promise anything, kero," she replied evenly. "Do you have all of her research here?"

"Yes, just one moment," Kid replied, standing up and extending his arms outwards over the table. Giving a quick snap, he pointed his index fingers downwards as two bolts of purple static erupted from them, creating a luminous Death Skull in the center. From out of the electric display, small piles of notebooks and files materialized neatly in pre-organized stacks.

"That's a pretty neat trick," Free chuckled. "Can you pull a rabbit out of your sleeve, too?"

"Hat, Free," Eruka corrected. "The trick is to pull a rabbit out of your hat, not your sleeve. And that's not even real magic."

"Well now you're just splitting hairs," the Man with the Magic Eye deadpanned.

Ignoring their petty arguing, Kid motioned towards the documents and parchments.

"This is everything that our investigative team was able to recover from the remnants of Medusa's lab. Most of her journals were beyond saving, but we did manage to make copies of what we could. I've already searched through the majority of it personally, but most of the information is either things we've already come to know or is indecipherable. Everything of value has already been copied into our official Academy report, and most of that came from her personal diary."

The personal notebooks and files that the Academy had managed to salvage, particularly Medusa's diary that Sid had recovered, had painted a gruesome picture into the double-life of their seemingly simple nurse. He explained to the three of them the logs and journals that Medusa had kept on the progression and creation of the Black Blood, some of which were dated as far back as before the birth of Crona. There were also detailed entries of the Demon Swordsman's descension from an innocent toddler to a psychotic murderer, which were frightening and sickening in their descriptions and lack of any shred of morality. He even explained the elaborately organized folder depicting all of the Shibusen faculty, its students, and their subsequent threat level to her operation. As the school nurse, she knew everything about everyone, from their physical and mental abilities down to who was allergic to peanuts, and had categorized them as such.

Needless to say, the name at the top of her list of threats was none other than Professor Franken Stein. His file in particular almost comprised a thin novel and read like a calculating, deranged romance disguised as an analytical biography.

"So while we were able to get a good amount of information from the journals, my biggest problem, and the reason I asked you both here today, is everything that she had written in runes," Kid elaborated. "I'm not at all knowledgeable on how to read them."

"And you automatically assumed we can read them?" Kim pouted in mock annoyance.

"Can't all witches write in runes?"

"All of us in the Coven are schooled in the basic runes, but not everyone learns the more advanced ones." Eruka explained. "The only way for us to tell what kind she used is to look at it for ourselves. Can we see everything that was her original work?"

Pointing to a small stack of parchments off to the side, several charred notebooks, and the witch's personal diary, Eruka placed her hands over the arrangement and focused herself for a few seconds.

Seeing the way in which the woman was carefully eyeing the documents without touching them, Kid inquired about her behavior.

"What are you searching for?" he asked.

"If I know Medusa, she wouldn't have left her research lying around for just anyone to come and find. She probably has some very powerful spells guarding all of this."

"I can sense a Soul Protect over them," Kim said, feeling the lingering wavelength of the advanced spell coming from the documents. "Beneath that there's something else. Whatever it is, it's pretty powerful."

"Yeah, I can sense it too, kero," Eruka replied, taking her hands away from the table.

"Just as I thought," she frowned in discouragement. "These all have spells protecting them. You only saw on them what Medusa wanted you to see. You'd have to be a witch to see what's beneath that."

Perplexed by the nature of the witches' findings, Kid wondered silently what on earth what she meant by only what Medusa wanted them to see. The notes contained incriminating accounts of her work, from creating the Black Blood to wanting to resurrect Asura. How could she not have been concerned if these intentions were to have been found out, which they eventually were by Sid's infiltration. Albeit, she was not a stupid person by any means, having been able to fool the Academy for a substantial amount of time. She had more than likely operated under the assumption that nobody would have ever been able to discover her true identity in time to stop her plans from coming to fruition, which in itself had also come true.

"What are you saying?" he inquired with a puzzled interest. "Do you mean that there's more to these notes than what Medusa wrote? Can you read them to me?"

"From what it looks like there's definitely something out of the ordinary going on here. I can try to see what it is, but I'd have to undo all of the spells safeguarding them first."

"Those spells wouldn't have disappeared when Medusa was killed?" Kid rationalized.

"No, she probably used an Autonomous Spell to bind safeguards to her work that would continue to exist even after she died," Eruka clarified. "Autonomous Spells are complex, but they don't require a witch's magic to thrive once they're cast. That's what makes them great for security or setting up booby traps. In this case she probably used it for both."

"I see," the Reaper hummed. "Well then we'll have to take extra precautions to avoid setting off any traps, if there are any," he reasoned. "I didn't realize that such spells existed. I suppose I should count myself lucky that I haven't accidentally triggered one yet."

"You wouldn't have set them off anyways," Kim stated knowingly. "By the looks of it, the Soul Protect around the notebooks is to make sure anyone with Soul Perception won't find them overly suspicious, but everything beyond that looks like it's designed for one purpose; to keep witches out. Only a witch using magic is going to trigger whatever's guarding it."

"I can use the Magic Eye to seal everything away in a dimensional box," Free chimed in to offer up a potential solution to their dilemma. "That way in case something happens nobody gets hurt."

"No offense, Free, but you'd probably send all of Medusa's work to the bottom of the ocean, kero," Eruka said, taking a blatant shot at the Immortal's inability to accurately control his spatial magic. "And if you put it all in a dimensional box, how are we supposed to work without locking somebody inside?"

"Well then _I'll_ work on them to make sure there aren't any traps, since nothing can hurt me. I'm immortal, remember?" he smirked.

"Pssh. Do you even know the first thing about breaking spells?" the Tanuki Witch snorted in contempt. "Just because you can use magic doesn't mean you're qualified to work on something as intricate as this. If you goof, you might just blow this whole place sky high."

Pondering the quandary of her statement, the werewolf scratched the bottom of his chin in contemplation before giving a half-hearted shrug.

"Huh, you have a point there. Oh well, I've never been much of an idea man anyways," he stated, taking the pinkette's subtle insult in stride.

"We're going need at least three people who can use magic to break the spells, so you're going to have to be one of the anchors, Free. It's easy, though. All you have to do it sit still and be quiet, kero," Eruka explained.

"That's pretty much all I did for two hundred years when I was in Witch Prison. I think I can handle it," the Immortal smirked.

Unsurprised by the Immortal's comedic arrogance, the Frog Witch asked Kid to kindly rid the table of everything that wasn't the Snake Witch's original manuscripts. Obliging, the shinigami sent all the copied texts back to their appropriate place in his study with another flash from his fingers.

"Alright, we're going to need absolute concentration for this, so no interruptions," Eruka instructed as she collected the books and parchments and placed them on the open floor so she, Kim, and Free could have an ideal space to work in. Instructing the werewolf where to sit in their sacred formation, she took her place at the symmetrical tip of their triangle with the notes at the center.

"I really wish I had brought the Mizune Sisters with me right about now. I wasn't planning on doing anything like this today, kero," she complained to herself as she made a sign with her hands before beginning the tedious work ahead.

"Kaeroggu, Groerru…Gekoeru, Furoggu…Kaeroggu, Groerru…Gekoeru, Furoggu…," she repeated in incantation as a sacred hexagram rune seemed to illuminate from below the three of them, connecting each of them at a point on its geometry. "Kaeroggu, Groerru…Gekoeru, Furoggu… Kaeroggu, Groerru…Gekoeru, Furoggu…"

Sitting in silent observation, Kim and Free began to feed their magical reserves to the Frog Witch, making sure that she had plenty of power to work with for whatever may come their way. A faint whirlwind began to brew over the circle, fluttering their hair and the papers as a series of algorithms began to appear in the air above them.

"Thou shalt bind it in the cantillations of the sorcerer Relené Descartes…Magical Calculation," Eruka finished, watching as her spell moved to wrap around Medusa's research, encircling it in a ticker tape of mathematical equations. Using the spell as an enhancement marker for her next step, the witch switched over to another incantation.

"Hogoerru, Seishinerru,...Odaekku, Burekku,…Hogoerru, Seishinerru…Odaerru, Burekku," she chanted, watching as the research began to radiate an ominous glow, morphing into a violet-hued sphere with thick blackened bands about it. The more the Frog Witch continued, the more refined the remnant of the soul became apparent, with the black stripes taking the distinctive form of several of Medusa's vector snakes. The mere sight of them sent cold shivers down her spine, trying to traumatize her into breaking her concentration.

"Stay on your toes, the Soul Protect is about to break," Kim warned, watching the malicious way the sinister serpents slithered about, staying within the confines of the barrier like reptiles in a zoo aquarium.

"I thought all of the snakes were supposed to have died along with Medusa?" Kid whispered quietly to himself, keeping at the ready in case anything was to happen. "They must be part of the Autonomous Spell's trap."

It was only at that moment as the shinigami watched the shifting mass of arrows that the cold reality of what they had stumbled upon hit home.

"If that's the case, they're still pieces of Medusa's soul!" he concluded. "She used the Autonomous Spell and the Soul Protect to keep them safely hidden away inside the diary!"

"Hogoerru, Seishinerru…Odaerru, Burekku… Hogoerru, Seishinerru…Odaerru, Burekku!"

Like a fragile sphere of glass, the purple barrier burst open, releasing a powerful blast of the late witch's wavelengths out across the Death Room and subsequently the arrow-like snakes as well.

"I've got this," Free announced, making an attempt to stand up to slay the vectors before a discouraging shout grabbed his attention.

"Stay put, Free!" Kim ordered. "Don't break the seal!"

Watching as the serpents slithered rapidly towards them, the two witches and the Immortal could only remain still within their positions.

"I won't let you defy death again, Medusa. Reaper Combat Art: Mortal Sin Stance," Kid stated firmly, taking his awkwardly positioned fighting style. Luckily for them they were currently in the Death Room, where the serpents would have no chance of escape into the outside world. They were trapped in his domain now. Moving quickly, he severed the snakes in half with a series of chops and kicks, doing away with the threats so as not to allow any of them a chance to latch onto another host like they had once done to the little girl Rachel. One-by-one the soul fragments dissolved into a blacked mist as they were destroyed at the hands of Lord Death.

Hearing an audible croak in fright, he turned around just in time to see one of the vectors in the process of curling up to strike at the petrified Frog Witch. With the speed that came with being a true Death God, Kid took a bounding leap to catch the vector mid-air, pummeling it to pieces with a hammer fist.

Satisfied that he had neutralized every target, he finally relaxed his posture, easily feeling the powerful wavelength that was surrounding the documents now that the Soul Protection spell had been broken and the Snake Witch's remnants destroyed. It was plain to see that even in death, the cunningness of that woman was never to be underestimated.

"Is everyone alright?" he questioned.

"I think so," Kim replied, visibly shaken, but maintaining her composure.

"I'm good," Free declared with an almost humorous smile.

Eruka, however, remained silent in her sitting position as the fear that gripped her paralyzed her tongue.

"Eruka?" Kid addressed with a worrisome expression.

Visibly trembling from the close encounter, the young woman turned to their momentary savior in wide-eyed shock. This was supposed to have been a simple day of deciphering runes for intellectual purposes, and now she was bearing witness to one of her darkest nightmares come back to life.

"I-I'm alright. T-Thank you," Eruka remarked in gratitude, lying through her teeth as her voice shook easily with terror.

"Are you sure? We can stop this right now if you want," the shinigami caringly reassured, letting her know that the choice to continue or turn back was hers alone to make. "We've already uncovered far more than we ever could've imagined. There's no need for us to go any further."

How deep into this rabbit hole was she willing to travel down so that the Grim Reaper could have his precious information? Medusa was dead, or so she had thought for the longest time, her snakes had disappeared from her body, and in all fairness she served nothing to gain from this endeavor that in itself was only for the sake of curiosity. The world was fine off as it was without them meddling into possibly resurrecting one of the greatest evils to ever walk its face, so what the hell was she still doing in this circle? Why hadn't she said she wanted no part of this and fled?

"No…I-I can do this. Let's keep going, kero," she stammered. The words seemed to form on their own accord, making her mind up for her before she had an opportunity to protest.

Was the temptation to see what that demon of a woman had left hidden beneath her traps really that irresistible? Was it worth the risk of more of her familiars emerging, possibly entering one of them as a new host? Logic dictated absolutely not, but being in the presence of the Grim Reaper himself, along with a fellow witch and a trusted Immortal, she felt a calming comfort that none of them would allow anything to happen.

Taking a deep breath, the Frog Witch steeled her nerves, trying her best to push the sight of Medusa's serpents from the forefront of her mind. She was going to need every ounce of concentration and magic in her if she was going to get through whatever came their way. It was a fair assumption that the spells they had to break next were going to be far more daunting than the first one. On top of that, none of them even knew how many more they would have to remove to reach whatever was at the end of this proverbial tunnel. It could be one or a hundred to finally figure out what it was that Medusa had kept under even tighter lock and key than her plans to resurrect Asura.

"Alright, I'm ready," she declared, refocusing her efforts. "Kaeroggu, Groerru…Gekoeru, Furoggu… Kaeroggu, Groerru…Gekoeru, Furoggu… Magical Calculation."

Once more, the numbers and equations of her arithmetic spell locked onto the books in preparation for their next round into the fray.

"Magical power holding steady at sixty-five MG. That's good, just keep it right there, kero. Lord Death, I'm going to need you to stay on guard when I try to get the next trap to reveal itself. I don't know what's going to happen, but it's probably not going to be good."

"Understood," Kid nodded.

"Hogoerru, Seishinerru…Odaerru, Burekku… Hogoerru, Seishinerru…Odaerru, Burekku," Eruka resumed in consistent repetition.

Several minutes seemed to pass by with no reaction coming from the manuscripts at the center of their sacred circle. Persisting in her chants, Eruka's voice began to strain, locked in a magical struggle to undo whatever trap the Autonomous Spell held in store for them.

"Hogoerru, Seishinerru…Odaerru, Burekku… Hogoerru, Seishinerru…Odaerru, Burekku…"

"It's no good," the witch stated dejectedly, opening her eyes. "I'm going to need more power to even get it to reveal itself. Free, can you increase your magic output for me? With the power from Magic Eye you should have a plenty of reserves to spare. Give it a good push, but try not to go overboard."

"No problem," the Immortal confirmed. Trying his best to tap into his inner magic, he could feel himself suddenly becoming a little less vigorous as he siphoned his energy away so that Eruka could have the sufficient power she required.

"Magical power now at seventy-seven MG…eighty-two MG…eighty-five MG. Hold it steady right there, Free."

"Hogoerru, Seishinerru…Odaerru, Burekku… Hogoerru, Seishinerru…Odaerru, Burekku…"

This time there was a distinctive reaction from the surrounding wavelength, as though it were trying to repel Eruka's attempt to discover what was coming next. Dark sparks of violet static began to shoot out from the pages of the documents as the two magical forces were caught in a clash of wills.

"C'mon, Eruka," Free encouraged beneath his breath, keeping his mind on his designated task instead of the electric display in front of him.

"Hogoerru, Seishinerru…Odaerru, Burekku… Hogoerru, Seishinerru…Odaerru, Burekku…"

Powerful gusts began to emerge from the ritual, fluttering the pages of the books and the clothing of the group as the black and purple static became elongated bolts of lightning. Twisting and shifting, they began to take the form of three more of Medusa's snakes, only far larger and hissing with malevolent intent.

"Mortal Sin Stance," Kid announced, ready to jump in.

"Don't worry, she's almost got it," Kim stated, trying to keep any interruptions from occurring that may compromise their progress.

Spying the source of their awakening, the sentient fragments rose from the depths of the pages, rearing back to lash out at the two witches and the Wolfman. Unfurling itself from its coil, the first of the three struck at Eruka with fangs barred wide.

"Hogoerru, Seishinerru…Odaerru, Burekku!" Eruka shouted in determination and fear.

Rocking the entirety of the Death Room like a bomb, the violent eruption of a wavelength shot forth, disintegrating the serpents in a flashing pulse of brilliant white. Feeling the floor quaking beneath their feet, Kid raised his arm in front of his face to shield himself from the blinding light. Opening his eyes only when he felt it was safe again to do so, the new sight before him puzzled and astounded not only him, but everyone in the room.

Emerging from the pages of the diary and manuscripts, every word, rune, and hieroglyph was now peeling away to superimpose itself against the air around them. Shifting rapidly, each letter and symbol contorted and morphed itself over and over into a series of continuously scrambling obfuscations, making them all but impossible to decipher.

"A Variable Fluctuation Spell?" Kim stated in a mixture of fascination and worry. "I didn't know that Medusa was capable of casting anything like that."

"What better way for an unpredictable witch to guard her secrets than with an unpredictable lock," Eruka replied.

Eying the troublesome texts as they continuously reshaped themselves, Kid didn't have to be a witch to know that what they were dealing with was going to be an incredibly complex spell to break.

"Care to elaborate on what it is we're dealing with here?" he questioned

"It's called a Variable Fluctuation Spell," Kim answered. "When its cast, it takes the information provided and disguises it so that only someone with the right key can unlock it. It was originally intended as a way back during the Grim Times for witches to secretly send messages between each other without Lord Death's forces discovering what was really written on them. If the messages were to be found out, the spell would kick in and jumble everything up so nobody could read it."

"So how do we find the right key?"

"That's the problem. Normally the key is a word or a phrase that only the witches involved would know, but seeing as how we already triggered the Fluctuation Spell when Eruka forced it to reveal itself there's no point in trying that anymore."

"So this is as far as we go?" he deduced.

"I'm not sure…" the pinkette replied with a discouraging shake of her head.

Analyzing the nature of the spell carefully, Kim was at a loss for any kind of good news to reply with. Fluctuation Spells from their early inception were designed to be easy to access for those who were authorized, but an absolute nightmare for those who weren't. Without Medusa's key phrase, there really wasn't much else they could do to bypass the cryptic trap, less they risk possibly setting off yet another.

From her spot within the sacred circle, Eruka could see the letters and runes as they shifted in disarray, watching for any kind of repetition. Medusa may have been able to cast something so intricate thinking that normal witches would be deterred by the impossible puzzle, but she could never have predicted the gleam of determination that struck the otherwise cowardly amphibian.

"Free, Kim, give me all the magic reserves you got left. I'm going to try something different, kero," she ordered firmly.

Puzzled looks turned to the silver-haired woman, taken aback by her sudden change in demeanor. Where once a frightened, shaking Eruka had minutes ago sat, an aura now radiated from her teeming with resolution.

"All of it?" the Wolfman questioned, concerned for her safety. The Magic Eye was once Maba's after all, and forcing all the magic left in it into the petite girl could easily overwhelm her.

"Just do it," she affirmed.

This wasn't just any ordinary spell that she was going to have to break; it was a blatant challenge to her abilities as a calculating witch. Whether Medusa had the foresight to make it intentionally this way or not, she really didn't know and frankly she didn't care. It was taunting her and her weakness; her preference to retreat and shy away when confronted with a challenge as well as her lowly reputation as a lesser witch in the Coven. This was no longer about morbid curiosity or gaining knowledge that may or may not be of pertinence to anything that was going on in the world. No, this was now an act of defiance against everything she was ever too afraid to do in the past. By defeating this puzzle she was going to rid herself of that previous life and that wicked woman who remained in her dreams for good.

Letting out her anxiety in a deep breath, the frog was about to show the snake just what she was made of.

"Alright, give me all you've got, kero."

Putting her hands back together, the rune beneath her illuminated as she began her incantation that would hopefully put a decisive end to it all. Feeling Kim and Free's energy flowing into her in a concentrated rush, she suddenly found herself trying to keep her mind focused on the task at hand while trying to drink from a proverbial waterfall. She could tell that Free was still holding the Magic Eye back, most likely out of concern for her well being, but nonetheless providing her with a more than sufficient amount of energy.

"Magical power at ninety-one MG…ninety-nine MG…one hundred and ten … one hundred and twenty…one hundred and thirty…"

The sheer magnitude of the boost could be felt in her wavelength as well as her body language, which tensed and strained from the magical onslaught. Her voice was beginning to crack as the meter kept climbing higher and higher, far past anything she had ever had to experience before.

"It's too much. She's going to hurt herself," Kid whispered observantly, hoping that he would somehow be proven wrong. He desperately wanted to believe in the Eruka's capabilities, but the weight of the burden he had unknowingly placed on her might have far exceeded what she could handle.

"One hundred and ninety…two hundred MG," she forced herself to announce with magical reserves still rising.

"Furoggu, Gekoeru…Groerru, Kaeroggu…Furoggu, Gekoeru…Groerru, Kaeroggu…Furoggu, Gekoeru…Groerru, Kaeroggu…Furoggu, Gekoeru…Groerru, Kaeroggu…" she started chanting with a voice laced in obvious pain.

Ticker tapes of complex equations once more began to form around them, crossing over one another and intermingling with the texts from Medusa's research.

"Furoggu, Gekoeru…Groerru, Kaeroggu…Furoggu, Gekoeru…Groerru, Kaeroggu…Furoggu, Gekoeru…Groerru, Kaeroggu…Furoggu, Gekoeru…Groerru, Kaeroggu…"

"Eruka…" Free spoke in worry, hating himself for having given her the means to do this to herself. She was shouting now in a screech he had never seen her do before and it tore at him to see her in such a state.

"Magical Calculation: Regressive Derivative!" she screamed in pure blood-curling agony.

Shooting out from their bands, her equations separated to fuse themselves with Medusa's work, blanketing them in a myriad of numbers and mathematical signs. No sooner had they done so, all around them something was beginning to happen to the characters as their shape-shifting began to retard. In the mixture of the chaos, a definitive pattern began to emerge of what the Frog Witch was trying to accomplish as the shortest and simplest words began to show their true natures first. Bit by agonizing bit, jumbled incoherencies of sentences began to reform and fill in with legible clauses, revealing the reality of the messages Medusa had kept hidden within the multiple layers of her works. And all the while the shrill screams of the casting witch pierced through with her anguish.

Rushing over towards the prominent mirror that loomed on its pedestal, Kid touched the glass hurriedly, writing a quick series of numbers of its reflective surface before the shine dissolved in a burst of white. The short rings of the dial were possibly one of the most agonizing five seconds he had ever had to wait.

"Hello, Lord Death," the calm voice and image of Nygus appeared on the other end of the communication, obviously enjoying the comforts of her assumed day off as she relaxed at home.

"Nygus, contact Stein and get to the Death Room immediately. We're going to need medical assistance for two witches," Kid implored, trying his absolute best to maintain a collection about him while still relaying the seriousness of their situation. The last thing his faculty needed was to see Lord Death in a state of panic.

"Understood," the mummified woman nodded confidently, moving quickly off screen before the connection was severed.

In all reality, Kid had no idea if the nurse would be able to do anything to help combat magical drain, but it would give him reassurance by having two of the most medically knowledgeable people at the Academy present.

Turning back to the situation, Eruka's screams had died down as the Magical Calculation finished returning the research to its original source. In a flash of white, the texts and runes illuminated in their indication before swirling about the air, filing neatly in their arrangements back onto the pages of the notebooks and diary. With a shuttering whimper, Eruka released her spell, causing the sacred circle beneath them to disappear before she slumped backwards onto the floor of the Death Room.

Disregarding the research that the witch had courageously unraveled, Kid, Free, and Kim rushed over towards her side to stabilize her.

"Step aside," Kim barked, hovering her hands over Eruka to try to flow what miniscule amount of Regenerative Magic that remained into her.

Glowing yellow as she filtered the healing aura in, the already drained Tanuki Witch forced herself to stay conscious as she performed the incantation. Reaching the point of no return, they at last could breathe easy as a groan escaped Eruka's dotted lips.

"D-Did it work, kero?" she struggled to ask as she looked up to their looks of concern.

"Ha, did it ever!" Free laughed, picking up the girl with muscular arms by her shoulders and swinging her limp body around like a ragdoll in celebration. "You had us worried sick there, but I knew you could do it!"

"Ah, put me down, Free," Eruka protested wearily, kicking at the air in vain as the Immortal continued to sling her around.

"Oops, sorry about that," Free replied with a sheepish grin, shifting her so that she was cradled in his arms. Moving over towards the arrangement of chairs, he set her down gently in one of them so that she could take the time she needed to recover from her efforts.

Seeing as how Eruka had been tended to by Kim and Free, and with Nygus and Professor Stein on the way as a precaution, Kid stood over the manuscripts that had all but been forgotten about in their aftermath. Catching the cover of the personal diary with golden eyes, his warily reached down to pick it up, afraid that even with everything supposedly translated there may still be one last preventive measure that Medusa had instilled in its pages. Upon grasping it, however, he no longer felt any lingering trace of the Snake Witch's soul in it, leading him to believe that after everything they had ever gone through at the hands of that demon, every single last piece of her soul was gone for good.

Running his hand over the vector engraving on its cover, he opened the title page to see what vileness lay hidden beneath it. Looking on it in intrigue, he came to find that rather than any words to speak of, the very first page contained a hand-drawn image of an elaborate rune that depicted the likeness of an eight-sided spoked wheel made entirely of her vector arrows. Four of the spokes, aligned much like a compass in the north, south, east, and west positions were bolder and longer in their depictions, pointing to more runes that ran the circumference of the circle. The other four spokes, in their equally spaced positions between the bolder ones, also seemed to point to more unknown characters that he was not knowledgeable of. It was a marvelously symmetrical rune with its eight points, although the fact that Medusa had wished to keep it concealed seemed to taint its beauty.

"Kim, do you know anything about this?" he addressed as she looked curiously over his shoulder.

Upon seeing the sketch, Kim immediately understood what she was looking at, but couldn't come to any explanation of why.

"It's part of a children's story from the Grim Times called 'The Cradle of the Eighth'," she answered in confusion. "Every witch grew up hearing it. You know about The Great Old Ones and The Eight Warlords, right?"

"Yes. The Great Old Ones were at one time all aligned under the banner of the Eight Warlords to collect those souls that strayed onto the path of becoming kishin. There was Father, Eibon, Excalibur, The Old One of Power, Asura and Vajra, and the other two who I don't know. Other than the two nameless Warlords, I'm can say I'm quite familiar with them."

"Yeah, well there's a reason why you've probably never heard of them. 'The Cradle of the Eighth' is about the last of those two Warlords. Nobody knows what her real name was since it's been lost to history, but in the Coven they refer to her as 'Cradle'. She was the first witch."

Shifting his gaze in befuddlement, the shinigami couldn't believe what he had just heard. One of Father's fellow Warlords had become the reason why only up until a few months ago the Academy and witches continued to battle one another? Why had he never mentioned such a vital piece of information? And why, with the vastness of Shibusen's networks of information, did it take a seemingly well known children's tale to reveal it to them?

"What does this story say about 'Cradle'?" Kid questioned.

"Simply put, the story goes that during the Grim Times Lord Death was a wicked harvester of all souls, not just corrupt ones. Unable to bear it any longer, Cradle went one day to a sacred henge and pleaded to the stars to give her power to oppose him. The stars answered her by giving her the ability to manipulate the forces of the world; what we now call magic. And so she used her magic to begin her battle against Lord Death and his forces. However, Lord Death was still too much for Cradle to handle, and she fell valiantly opposing him, becoming a martyr for future witches. And that's about it. There's no real happy ending to the story, but it's one witches grow up hearing to remind themselves how much they should continue to oppose Lord Death's sense of justice."

Listening attentively to Kim's depiction of the tale, Kid could see the appeal to young, impressionable witches.

"Interesting, although there are a few factual flaws in it," he hummed. "From what we know, Eibon was already a very powerful Sorcerer and had the ability to use magic before Cradle supposedly could have. To say that she was given the ability to use magic seems a little farfetched in that respect."

"True, but a lot of people both from the Academy and the Coven still don't know about Eibon since Lord Death kept his existence under wraps, so it makes sense. Besides, it's just a stupid kid's book."

Holding the page before him, Kid wasn't able to as quickly dismiss it as such. The symbol at the center of the page, even with its symmetrical eight vectors, continued to give him an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. They had a lot of long nights ahead of them if they were going to get through all of the new information the manuscripts contained.

"Why?" he questioned to the page. "Why all of this for a children's story? Why was Medusa so interested in you, Cradle?"

* * *

Strolling back in silent contemplation, Shuvo held the leather-bound book in place, skimming its contents as he and Mirika made their way though Death City without any destination. Their venture to gain knowledge on Soul Gates had hopefully come up with something of value, and the monk honestly couldn't contain his anticipation to get home to begin reading, soaking in every line that the antiqued book contained.

The sun above them was shining bright and a pleasant breeze wafted through the foliage as they found themselves wandering aimlessly through a small park with the sounds of children running about in play. Off to the side he could see a small grass covered hill where people were parked beneath the shade to enjoy their lunch or people watch.

From out of the peripherals of his Soul Perception, the faintest hint of a wavelength hit him with its familiarity. Looking up from his book, he was just quick enough to hear the warning that it gave him.

"Heads up!"

Swinging his arm out in front of him in a cringe, the stinging pop of the rubber against his hand deflected the incoming ball from otherwise beaning him in the side of the face.

"Hey, watch it!" Mirika hissed, taking her headphones out to yell at the unknown source of the hit.

Coming up from behind them in a light jog, none other than her earlier groper made his way into her line of sight, stopping abruptly when he realized just where his erratic kick had landed.

"I don't want any trouble, I'm just getting my ball," he explained with hands defensively in the air.

"Good to know," the Meister nodded in affirmation, knowing the grabby boy had learned his lesson after their previous encounter.

Retrieving the black and white orb, the Musket Meister remembered his offer from earlier in the day, not having really been expecting them to cross paths again the way they had.

"So, did you find what you were looking for?" he wondered, noticing the book that Shuvo held in his hand.

"Yes, we did. Hopefully it will have many of the answers I seek," the khakkhara replied. "We also tried to see if Lord Death was in, but it seems he was not. He is most likely enjoying his day off like everyone else."

"Well that's good you found something. Yumi went home, but if you want we can still see about getting a pickup game going. You want in?"

As much as he desperately wished to go to the solitude of his room and delve deep into the hidden mysteries of Craftlove's book, there was also the little voice inside of him that told him that it most certainly could wait until later. There was a time for deep contemplative thought, and then there was a time to enjoy life to its fullest. Now was the latter.

"Can I?" he asked of his partner, not wishing to merely abandon her.

"What do I look like, your mom?" Mirika scoffed. "You don't need my permission. Just keep an eye on him though. He might try to sneak you into a booby bar or something."

"A what?"

"Nothing. Just go do your thing."

With all the permission he needed, Shuvo handed the book over for safekeeping before heading off with his newly-found football enthusiast. Dribbling the ball with a few half-effort kicks, Remmy quickly joined him, mumbling something in his ear as they passed through the park.

"She _really_ doesn't like me, does she?"

* * *

**Author's Notes: Alright everyone, there's a lot going on in this chapter so if you're confused at all or need any clarification, let me know. It's honestly my longest chapter to date for a fic, so I hope you enjoy. As you can see I took a big creative liberty with the manga's storyline and tried to stay as true to the finest details as possible. Much of what I understand about the actual way magic works comes from the manga's "Book of Eibon" arc, which is where I get Eruka's incantation from. Also, just in case you were wondering "Hogoerru _(protection)_, Seishinerru _(lock), _...Odaekku _(order),_ Burekku _(break)". _They're not frog-like in their pronunciation, but they're derived from their respective Japanese words. So essentially the counter-spell translates as "protection lock order break" or "I order this protective lock to break".**

**To be continued...**

**K.K. **


	13. Rediscovering Universal Synergy

Chapter 13: Rediscovering Universal Synergy: Shifting from the I Am to the We Are?

"And that's all I have for you today, class. Remember, next week will be your first exam, so I suggest that you start studying now so you're not cramming at the last minute. I say this knowing that many of you will probably do just that."

Timing the ending of his announcement near perfectly with the dismissing ring of the eight-note bell, Craftlove watched as his students gathered their things and made a hasty exit from his homeroom. Standing by the door as was per his custom, he gave friendly parting words of encouragement to the young Meisters and Weapons, with some of them giving handshakes in return.

"See you tomorrow, Miss Arisaka. Mister Tonne," he waved partingly with a tattooed hand.

"Goodbye, Professor," Yumi replied kindly as she and her Meister made their way off towards the lunchroom.

With almost all of the students having left the lecture hall, Craftlove moved to erase the myriad of notes that he had written across the blackboard, whistling a tune to himself as he did so.

"Professor, we're taking off," Tsubaki said with Soul beside her, his hands stuffed haphazardly in the pockets of his pinstriped suit. "Lord Death wanted to see us after class was over."

"Alright then, thank you both for your hard work today," Craftlove replied gratefully as he wiped the chalklines clean. "Tell Lord Death not to discuss anything with the Coven until I get a chance to see the notes for myself."

"Alright, Professor, we will," his assistant confirmed warmly as she and Death Scythe too made their exit.

Waiting until they had departed, Craftlove stopped mid-swipe against the blackboard, pausing for a moment before shaking his head with a heaving sigh.

"Oh, Aleister, Aleister," the chestnut-haired instructor mumbled beneath his breath, rubbing the center of his inked forehead exhaustively. "You have to get a hold of yourself. Can't let that old ghost get the better of you now."

"Are you feeling alright, Professor?"

Spinning around in surprise, Craftlove had been sure that he had been alone with his inner conflictions.

"Oh, Mister Bhakta, Miss Amesdale, I thought you had already left," he remarked, recovering his composure quickly. "Nothing to worry about; just a little migraine. Thank you for your concern, though."

"Moon in her eye," Mirika stated bluntly before Shuvo could get a word in edge-wise, seemingly not at all interested that her instructor had been caught talking to himself.

Looking upon her in confusion with dark grey irises, Craftlove was caught off guard by her off-topic and irrelevant comment.

"I'm sorry?" he questioned curiously.

"That tune you were whistling. It's 'Moon in Her Eye' by The Desperados," the gothic teen clarified frankly. "Never figured you much for a southern rock fan, Teach."

Disregarding her disrespectful nickname for him, Craftlove knew that this was all just a part of the little game that she enjoyed playing. At least once or twice everyday she would try to do something to push his buttons, whether that be referring to him as 'Teach', dozing off during lectures, or showing disinterest in the material because she had already encountered it one year prior.

"Sharp ear, Miss Amesdale," he complimented with a smile, his inked features perking up. "Although, as you know they're just called Desperados. People like to add the 'The' because it rolls off the tongue easier."

"You know your stuff," Mirika smirked in jesting approval. "I would have guessed by that tweed suit and bowtie you're always wearing you'd be a classical kind of guy. I just can't help but picture you sitting by a fireplace listening to Van Bock with a book in one hand and a glass of scotch in the other."

"And what would a fourteen year old know about Van Bock and fine scotch?" Craftlove countered humorously.

"You've got me there, Teach," she shrugged. "That's not really my cup of tea."

Chuckling jovially at her remark, the professor found it a comforting change of pace to actually have a lively discussion with the young Meister. More often than not she chose to keep to herself, rarely participating in lectures and leaving as soon as the bell rang to dismiss her. As an educator who prided himself on getting to know students on a personal level, not taking the time to find common ground with a student simply wouldn't do.

"Mine neither," he admitted. "I'm actually fond of the English Invasion of all things. Not the early groups that were boy bands in disguise, but the real rockers. War Pigs, Screaming Vengeance, The Troopers, Snaggletooth, Murray, Dark of the Moon, Mothership, and the like."

Standing dumbfounded before her teacher, Mirika found herself at a momentary loss of words by the shocking, albeit almost beautiful revelation.

"Holy crap, Shuvo, I think he just went up like a hundred points of awesome in my book."

"I will take that as a good thing I suppose," the khakkhara replied, all but lost in the conversation at hand.

"Get to know me, Miss Amesdale, I'm not as boring as you might think," Craftlove stated jokingly, finishing with the blackboard and sitting down behind his desk.

"Now I'm sure you both didn't stick around just to talk about my musical tastes," he said observantly, resting his hands underneath his chin. "You look like there's something on your minds. Anything I can help you with?"

Reaching into the burgundy satchel that dangled by his hip, Shuvo shuffled through its contents before producing the faded and worn text that he had checked out.

"Actually, Professor, we were wondering if you could help us understand some things from your book. We found it in the library and I started to read the beginning, but I am confused by much of it. There is a good amount of terminology that you use that I do not understand. "

Raising a questionable brow from his student' inquiry, Craftlove looked at the faded cover of the leather-bound book with discernible interest.

"I've written several dissertations, but never a book," he confessed. "I don't believe I've ever seen anything like that before. May I take a look at it?"

Taking the torn and antiquated leather gently in hand so the pages wouldn't slip from their binding, the professor squinted slightly to see the dulled lettering.

"Exotic and Occult Natures of the Spiritual Essence: Volume One. By Aleister Crowley Craftlove."

Reading the name of his own likeness, a dull, pounding throb protruded against the crown of his head, directly in the centre of his pyramid and crescent moon tattoo. Grunting slightly in discomfort, he massaged the troublesome area thoroughly in response.

"You good, Teach?" Mirika questioned.

Feeling the throbbing subside, at least for the moment, Craftlove maintained face as best he could in front of his concerned students.

"Yes, I'm sorry, these migraines have been coming and going all day," he apologized before returning to the matter at hand, skimming through the table of contents haphazardly.

"What you have here is actually one of the first publications by my grandfather, Aleister Craftlove, who I just happened to be named after. He was a very…eccentric man, with a deep curiosity for strange things. I remember him spending much of his time drawing paintings of odd, morbidly dark scenes with strange creatures or reading book after book on the Grim Times and sorcerers. He had a particular fascination with souls, however, and traveled the world in his youth to document the different kinds and study them. I'm honestly very surprised that the Academy even has a book by him, let alone one available to a N.O.T. student. But I have to ask, what are you doing reading this kind of book? Thinking you might get a little extra credit?"

"Actually Professor, I was looking for some information on Soul Gates," Shuvo replied honestly, now hoping that his instructor actually had an idea about what he meant seeing as how he didn't author the book. "I believe that if I can control my Soul Gate ability as well as my Soul Perception then that would make me a lot more useful for Mirika to wield. The only problem is that I do not know much about it or how to really use it."

Sitting behind his desk with hands beneath his chin, Craftlove found himself eying the young Weapon stoically, contemplating to himself about the nature of what his student had just revealed. Turning his neutral face into a small, knowing smile, his demeanor softened slightly back to his cheery self.

"A Weapon with Soul Perception?" he remarked light-heartedly. "That's a new one on me. Don't let Professor Stein find out, though. He may just try to dissect you to see what makes you tick."

Cringing with a slight shiver at the mere thought of the eccentric scientist performing any form of experiments on his body, Shuvo nodded his head in definitive affirmation.

"Don't worry, I was just kidding," Craftlove assured. "I won't tell anybody that you don't want me to, except maybe Lord Death. He'd be interested to know about this. We only get about one or two students a year who have it, so I'm sure he'll be willing to help you. Actually, better yet, the best person to talk to about Soul Perception would be Death Scythe's original Meister Miss Albarn. I've heard her ability is second only to Lord Death's and her schedule would be a lot more open. As for your Soul Gate ability, I'm happy to inform you that I'm familiar with it, although I'm no certified expert. The man to ask about that is the same one who wrote the book you're holding, but he's no longer alive. But if you're in need of assistance, I'll help in any way I can."

Beaming ear to ear, Shuvo's face lit up at the news. Professor Craftlove may not have known everything there is to know about his ability, but at this point he hardly doubted anybody did. If even Bhante, who was the wisest and most knowledgeable person he knew when it came to questions about the soul, didn't have an explanation for what was happening, he really doubted anybody would. However, lo and behold, the potential solution to his troubles was currently staring him in the face.

What was that saying that Westerners had for something like this? "Ask and ye shall receive,"?

"Please, can you teach me everything you know about Soul Gates, Professor? It would mean the world to me if I can become a better Weapon for Mirika," the khakkhara pleaded excitedly, bowing lowly in humility. "I would be forever indebted to you if you could help me understand it."

Seeing the way his student so sincerely reached out for help in his venture to become a better Weapon, Craftlove couldn't help but admire his student's selflessness. Reaching down into the pocket of his jacket, he produced a small watch of ornate silver attached to a chain, glancing at the time.

"We have a little bit until your next class begins. That should be plenty of time for me to at least teach you the basic principles if you want."

Moving to the freshly erased blackboard, he began drawing a crude depiction of the human form. Stopping momentarily, he glanced over his shoulder to see the two of them watching him intensely.

"You might want to sit down and take notes for this so you can study it later on," he suggested as he went on with his sketches. "I'll try to simplify this as much as I can, but I'm about to throw some pretty big concepts at you."

Complying eagerly, Shuvo and Mirika took their seats in the empty front row, the former fishing out his notebook and pencil in giddy anticipation and already copying down exactly what was depicted on the blackboard.

"Before we start talking about what a Soul Gate is and how it supposedly works, you need to be familiar with the Academy's most basic principle. Going back to one of our first lessons, we understand that 'A sound soul…" he stated tapping the piece of chalk against the round white circle he had drawn in representation. "…dwells within a sound mind… and a sound body."

Pointing to the head and outline of the figure respectively, he took a moment to make sure that his students were able to keep up with his pace of instruction. Drawing a large triangle to the side, he wrote 'body', 'mind', and 'soul' at their respective tips and the word 'alive' in the center of the three.

"Now here is where things start getting a little tricky. Everything with a soul is alive, but not everything living has a soul, if that makes any sense. Humans, witches, monsters, kishin, dogs, cats, spiders, ants, you name it; they all have souls no matter how big or small or primitive. By understanding this we conclude that the mind, body, and soul are all interdependent of one another for something to be considered 'alive'. But this statement sounds contradictory to what I just said about everything with a soul is alive, but not everything living has a soul. Why would that be?"

Stepping aside to show them the quick diagrams he had sketched, Craftlove gave them a few seconds to contemplate their answer. However, both of them merely shook their heads in discouragement, stumped by his question.

"How about plants?" he hinted, trying to lead them on to the answer he had in mind. "People are alive and plants are alive, but why do people have souls and plants don't?"

Pondering the nature of the question, Shuvo was the first to answer with his own interpretation to the slightly philosophical question.

"I am not sure if this is correct, but I believe it has something to do with awareness," he replied hesitantly, not really sure how to coherently word his response. "Living things with souls are aware of the fact that they are alive, but I do not believe that plants are. Plants are alive, but there is nothing there for them to know they are alive."

Smiling brightly at the young monk's answer, Craftlove turned to begin writing on the blackboard once more.

"Excellent answer, Mister Bhakta," he praised. "What you just hit on is the concept of self-awareness, which we often refer to as 'self-consciousness' or 'cogito'."

Drawing a line from the point that read 'mind', Craftlove wrote the words in bold letters, circling them to emphasize their importance to their discussion.

"Cogito is the principle of self-analyzing, which stems from the mind's ability to take in and deduct its surroundings," he explained. "Because plants lack the ability to have even the smallest amount of cogito the chain is broken and therefore they cannot have a soul. But we still have a problem then. If plants don't have self-awareness and they don't have souls that we consider necessary for life, how are they still considered alive?"

Shaking her head in complete bafflement, Mirika remained silent on the topic, leaving this one for Shuvo to figure out or for Craftlove just give them the answer. Where the professor was going with all of this and how it connected to Shuvo controlling his Soul Gate was beyond her at the moment.

Unable to come up with any kind of answer of his own, the monk shook his head in confusion for the second time. All of this talk about being alive was beginning to sound a lot like one of Bhante's philosophical puzzles.

Looking between the two in anticipation of a response, Craftlove was hoping they would at least give it a shot, although he could hardly blame them for being stumped. This was a concept that stopped even grown adults in their tracks.

"The reason is…" he began as he erased the words at the points of the triangle and began replacing them. "…we shouldn't actually think of something being alive in terms of body, mind, and soul. Rather, we need to think of them in their most basic principles; physical, mental, and spiritual. Think of each of these individual aspects as building blocks of what we consider 'life'. The best example that we all know is atoms, which fall under the physical aspect. Atoms become molecules which become cells which become tissues which become organs and so forth. Now in order to maintain balance in our life equation, for every atom we start adding we also have to add a building block from our 'mental' and 'spiritual' sections. Now here's where things are going to start making a little bit of sense. I assume as a monk you're familiar with the concept of 'higher consciousness', Mister Bhakta?"

"Yes, Professor," Shuvo confirmed.

"Well that's exactly what's happening here. As lifeforms become more complex they inherently become more conscious, eventually crossing the boundary from 'conscious' to 'self-conscious'. This is why we can say plants are alive, because even if they aren't self-conscious, they're still conscious. Some flowers bloom at sunrise and close up at sunset. Some plants, like the Venus fly trap, know when to open and close to catch prey. We confuse 'consciousness' with 'mind', thinking that because something doesn't have a brain like ours it has no awareness. This is an entirely false assumption. Does that make sense?"

Although he still had no clear idea what Craftlove was getting at with the impromptu lecture or what it had to do with his Soul Gate, the concept certainly was beginning to make some kind of sense to Shuvo. At the very least the visual diagrams were making it easier to understand.

"A little bit, Professor," he answered. "So if I understand correctly, people have cogito and plants do not because people are more complex creatures, meaning we need more mental and spiritual blocks to make us be alive."

"That's correct," the instructor confirmed.

"Then I have a question, Professor. If the building block of 'physical' is atoms and the building block of 'mental' is consciousness, what is the building block of the 'spiritual' portion?"

Raising his hands triumphantly with thundering claps of approval, Craftlove pointed an inked finger at the khakkhara with a proud, toothy smile.

"Exactly!" he exclaimed. "What is the building block of the spirit?! _That_, my young monk, is the million dollar question! _That_ is what we need to understand in order to understand a Soul Gate!"

Rearing back slightly in their seats from their normally well composed teacher's excited display, both Meister and Weapon couldn't help but be taken aback as the long-winded lesson came around full circle. While Shuvo didn't necessarily mind the lengthy discussion, Mirika silently wished that Craftlove would just cut to the chase so they could know exactly what it was they needed to do.

"So, Teach, just what is the building block of the spirit?" she questioned flatly.

Returning to the blackboard behind him, Craftlove drew a line from the 'spirit' point and jotted a few words below it.

"Different cultures have different names for it and really the answer depends on who you ask," he explained as he pointed towards the first phrase. "Some philosophers and sorcerers have called it 'the breath of life', and in some Far East cultures it's known as 'qi' or 'chi', but for all intents and purposes we'll call it 'life force'. Life force is still a mystery as far as what it is, but we understand it to be a vital energy that encompasses everything in the known universe. It transcends our rational, scientific understanding and permeates everything in existence, from the smallest atom to the largest galaxy. It's present in living and non-living things alike and acts as an interconnection between all that we know. It's found in humans, animals, flowers, rocks, rivers, the air we breathe, and really anything you can think of. It's even found in concepts like mathematics. Life force is the entire basis of why witches use sacred geometry in their runes and why Eastern cultures have feng shui. It's a way for them to focus life force into a manipulative form."

Astounded by the revelation, Shuvo was practically sitting out of his seat in elation, writing everything down so he wouldn't miss a single detail.

"I actually know what you are referring to, Professor," he said excitedly. "When I was at the temple we called it 'prāna'."

"Alright then, we can call it prāna," Craftlove acknowledged, writing it beside the others. "The name doesn't matter to us as long as we understand that it is the energy of the universe and the foundation of the soul. Prāna is a very ancient energy that has existed as long as the world; longer than even before the first Lord Death. Unfortunately, over time the teachings about the natures of prāna have faded away, but there are still a good number of people, like those at your temple apparently, who have kept the knowledge alive."

"Well they need to come out with a 'Life Force for Dummies' book," Mirika snided, vaguely being able to follow what her Weapon and teacher were rambling about.

"Miss Amesdale, this _is _'Life Force for Dummies'," he stated matter-of-factly as he proceeded on with his explanation. "Now, how does this correlate with a Soul Gate? As you probably know, no two souls are identical, which makes everyone's on earth different from the other, but there are some types of souls that are a little more special and harder to come by than your average person's. These souls enhance or bestow certain abilities to the people who have them. The best known example of this is the Grigori soul, which shows up in only one person for every fifty million and gives the person flight-like abilities when used in conjunction with a Soul Resonance. Now here at the Academy we spend a lot of time talking about souls and capturing corrupted souls and trying to get students to create Soul Resonance, but because not very many of us have Soul Perception we don't often take the time to look and study our own souls and what kinds we have. Do either of you two know what kind of soul you have or what they look like?"

"Not a clue," Mirika answered casually, shrugging her shoulders in lackadaisical uncertainty. "I'm not the one with Soul Perception here."

"Mister Bhakta?" Craftlove followed up. "I'm certain you've seen what your own soul looks like."

"I have, Professor," Shuvo confirmed. "And I also know what Mirika's looks like as well."

"Oh? Would you mind sharing with us?" the teacher wondered with the upmost curiosity, hoping that his student would say yes.

Turning to his partner, the khakkhara looked upon her with chocolate eyes, silently asking for her approval before revealing anything. Seeming to know exactly what he was getting at with that tentative expression, Mirika gave a knowing nod in confirmation that it was alright for him to do so.

"Mirika's soul is different than others," he began, trying his best to help them visualize what he had witnessed within his Meister's chest. "It is like a black orb made of glass with a deep blue and silver fog swirling inside. There are also mismatched piercings like hers, three on the right side and one on the left, and two black and blue flames coming from the top of it. It is a soul that I believe captures Mirika perfectly. It is dark and unnerving on the surface, but when you get closer you are able to see the true…nature of it."

In all truthfulness, the word he had wanted to convey was beauty, but he figured she most likely would not take too kindly to that particular word describing her. However, looking into Mirika's soul reminded him of burning incense captured in an orb. It was calming and serene with its colorful indigo and silvery wisps dancing about within the opaqueness of the onyx sphere, showing the gentleness beneath the exterior. But there were also the blackened flames that would rise and fall in constitution with her emotions, showing that there was a volatile temperament that came with it.

He could see her turn away slightly from his words, trying her best to save face from his choice of description. She said nothing about it, keeping her thoughts to herself on the personal revelation despite the subtle hint of interest.

Across from them, Craftlove rubbed his chin with an inked hand in contemplation.

"That does sound more than a little bit like you, Miss Amesdale, although really that _is _you. From what's been described, it appears you have what is known as a 'Cras' soul; more commonly referred to as a 'Blackbird' soul."

"What does that mean?" the Meister questioned. "Do I get wings or something if we resonate?"

"Not exactly," he clarified. "I'm speaking purely off of my own limited knowledge, so don't quote me on this, but a Blackbird soul doesn't bestow any abilities like a Grigori soul does. No, a Blackbird soul is more of a… adaptation. People with them aren't extremely rare, but they aren't especially common either. Blackbirds have a natural gravitation towards the darker tendencies of the world, and as a result they're less affected by Madness or macabre subjects that would otherwise drive normal souls insane. Their resistance to corruption is very high even when compared to other Meisters."

"So like an anti-Madness wavelength?" Mirika deduced.

"No, more like a… oh, how should I put it…an intuitive understanding. That's the right phrase. I suppose the best way to say it is you don't fear the darkness because you're part of the shadows. But that doesn't mean you _are_ the darkness. Unfortunately, we as a society often associate 'darkness' with 'evil', and because of that Blackbirds are guilty by association, causing them to be viewed unfavorably or even be rejected by other souls. It takes a soul with a lot of compassionate understanding to be able to be compatible with a Blackbird."

"Which brings us back to you, my good monk," he addressed, pointing his finger at Shuvo, who all the while was scribbling down information as fast as the teacher spouted it out. "What can you tell us about your soul?"

Finishing his notes quickly, the khakkhara placed his pencil down before noticing the anticipation that was spread both over his partner's and his teacher's face, although one was far more expressive about it than the other.

"My soul is nothing special, Professor," he stated with humility. "It is a light blue like most others. The only thing different is when I am able to use Soul Gate a golden dharmachakra appears in its center."

"Layman's terms please? We don't speak monk," Mirika commented in confusion with a cocked brow. She disliked it when he threw out his big foreign words that she had no understanding of. Saying his Weapon form alone had taken her a few days to get right, and even then she still got tongue-tied every once in a while trying to pronounce it.

Opening his notebook up to a fresh page, he sketched a fairly detailed depiction of a circular symbol with eight equally paced spokes coming from a smaller hub at the center.

"This is a dharmachakra," Shuvo stated, showing it to his befuddled Meister and teacher. "It is considered a holy symbol in my culture."

"Looks like a ship wheel to me," the Meister replied flatly.

"That is because it is," he explained. "'Dharmachakra' comes from the words 'dharma' and 'chakra'. Chakra is easy because it translates as 'wheel', but dharma does not really have a Western translation. The best word would be 'phenomena' or 'universal order'. So a dharmachakra is a 'wheel of the dharma'."

"Well that's all the information I need to know," Craftlove chimed happily, moving to draw the same symbol upon his now cluttered blackboard. "I'm not sure what the technical categorization of your soul is, Mister Bhakta, but it's plain to see that this symbol is the key to your ability. I'll have to do some research on the side to determine an answer. Now, with everything else out of the way we can finally get around to understanding what a Soul Gate is and how it functions."

"About time," the Meister quipped.

Disregarding his abrasive student with an exhaustive sigh, Craftlove brought the lecture around full circle, doing his best to connect the dots of information so that the picture could become clear for them.

"The best way to understand a Soul Gate is to think in terms of sound. Soul Resonance is the ability to heighten the amplification of one's soul wavelength in order to create a more powerful resonance with one's partner, and thus a stronger attack against an opponent. Soul Gate, however, operates in terms of frequency, like a radio. It is able to act like a very sensitive antenna to pick up the vibrations of what's around it. So essentially what's happening, and again please don't quote me on this, is when Soul Gate is activated you are able to pick up the vibrations of the world around you, which we understand now is full of life force, or prāna, and use that to create an energy that you can harness."

Doing his absolute best to convey his limited knowledge onto his students, Craftlove was elated to see their faces of confusion wane and the little lightbulbs above their heads click on.

"I see now," Shuvo confirmed with a small smile. "So my Soul Perception allows me to see the prāna in someone's soul and the Soul Gate allows me to pick up that prāna and use its vibrations as energy. It is beginning to make sense to me now."

"Still doesn't explain why it's completely backfired on us every time we've tried to use it since, even when you aren't tired," Mirika remarked.

"Actually, I believe I have a theory on that," Craftlove said. "You'll appreciate this one, Miss Amesdale. You're a rock lover, so I know you're familiar with the concept of distortion and overdrive. Well a Soul Gate operates much the same way. When the input signal exceeds the capacity of the amplifier you get overdrive, and if the input drastically exceeds the capacity you get feedback. I believe that is what is happening to the both of you. He is channeling more energy than you are capable of handling and that is resulting in feedback that shatters the process."

"So how do we fix it?" she wondered.

"Quite easily really. You can either decrease the amount of input or increase the capacity you are able to handle. Seeing as how I don't think you would want to decrease your potential, the only other option is to increase how much energy you can handle. Essentially, you need to resonate to make Soul Gate work."

Groaning internally at his answer, Mirika couldn't believe that the solution to their problem was to be found in their other problem.

"You don't think we've already tried doing that?" she snided.

"Have you really?" Craftlove questioned. "Or are you just saying that you've been trying? Personally speaking, based on the papers you both turned in the first week of class only one of you is genuinely trying to understand the other."

This was in fact a very true statement, but not the only reason that the two hadn't been able to resonate, he mused. Soul Resonance required both parties to have a common goal while simultaneously being of sound and calm minds. On top of that, they were N.O.T. students who had been partnered for a relatively short amount of time. Nobody was expecting partners of their caliber to be able to perform a more advanced technique like Soul Resonance right from the get go. However, these two were a rather unusual case to be seen; a Weapon with no real combat practicality, but two very soul-sensitive abilities, and a Meister with a Blackbird soul who was making waves for her relentlessness in the G.W.A.A.R. course, but was lax when it came to understanding her partner.

Crossing her arms in defense, Mirika said nothing as her lips curled in a slight scowl.

"I know you two live together, but how often do you actually spend time getting to know one another?" Craftlove pressed. "I'm not talking about sitting and watching television, but actually engaging with each other. My guess is probably not as much as you think."

His assumptions rang true, Shuvo admitted. It was true that they did spend most of their days together in class and sometimes outside of class, but for the most part as soon as they got home they would retire to their respective quarters to do their homework assignments and do their own thing. She had no interest in meditation, while on that same token he had nothing more than a superficial interest or understanding in her love of music. He had thought deeply in his introspections on what she had said about music being like soul wavelengths, but it was a concept that still eluded him in its foreignness. They were two souls submerged in their own separate worlds that were comforting and safe for them.

"Here's what I want you both to do tonight," the professor declared. "When you get back home, I want both of you to delve yourselves in something the other enjoys. It doesn't have to be for long, maybe an hour or so, but it will be good for you to get into the other's mindset for a little while. The more you know about one another, the easier and faster it will be for you to resonate. And once you resonate, you can effectively use Soul Gate to get stronger."

From the loudspeakers above them, the dinging of the bell interrupted them, indicated that they had unknowingly run past their allotted time.

"Already?" Craftlove wondered aloud as he pulled out his pocket watch to confirm. "Well shoot, I apologize for that, but you two need to get going. Tell Sid I kept you and that it's my fault. If he gives you any grief I'll take care of it."

Packing his notes up hurriedly, the Weapon hustled to get to Sid's class while his Meister could have beared to move with a little more intensity. Saying their goodbyes as they headed out the door, they left Craftlove to himself, sitting at his desk to contemplate the nature of what he had just come to know about his students.

"A Dharma soul and a Cras soul," he smiled in contention, wondering silently how that particular partnership would play out, although he had more than an educated guess. He already had for a quite a while now.

Looking down at the corner of his desk, he noticed that he had failed to return the little leather-bound book back to its rightful borrower. Picking it up, he thumbed through its contents gingerly, deciding he might as well take it home and see what it had to offer in pursuit of their understanding of souls. Flipping back to the worn and faded cover, his eyes never strayed away from the name at its bottom, feeling the dull throbbing between his eyes begin to return.

"You just can't let me be, can you?"

* * *

The remainder of the day had passed by them at an extraordinarily slow pace, making them feel like they were going through the motions of the Academy in a haze of distraction. Only upon the final bell of the day did the world seem to come up to speed and flow in its ever constant state. Walking side by side, neither of them said anything to the other as they made their way back to their apartment, despite the plethora of new information that had received only a few hours prior. It was an awkward silence that they were unaccustomed to, both of them contemplating upon the same word.

Resonate.

That's all they had to do, it seemed. Despite the complexity and long-windedness of Craftlove's lecture, the overall conclusion they had reached seemed so undeniably simple. So why then did the challenge seem so foreboding?

As the fading ball of sun dipped easily over the horizon line, the Meister sat comfortably in her bedroom with her acoustic in hand. With divided attention, the teen picked at the familiar steel of the strings, trying to stray her thoughts from what she had been told by the tattooed man about her not genuinely trying to get to know her partner. His words repeated themselves over again and again, etching their message into her brain. They wallowed deep into her psyche, filling it with an almost mocking timbre.

With a clouded, distant mind, her fingers were unable to focus on her strumming, moving about randomly without any rhyme or reason.

"Argh, screw this," she huffed in frustration, lifting herself off her bed and placing the six-string off to the side. Opening her bedroom door, she trudged into the living room towards the bookshelf that housed her vinyls and player. Running her fingers over the tops of the meticulously maintained arrangement, she rejected each record as she blindly went in search of the one she deemed most appropriate.

" No…no…no…," she grumbled, flipping through the covers of her collection. "Too heavy…no…definitely no…"

And then she found it towards the rear of her alphabetical collection. It was a newer record by her standards, and not exactly her go-to genre, but she deemed it as close to appropriate for what she needed. Taking it in hand, she went to the threshold of Shuvo's room and gave two firm knocks, not knowing if he was in the middle of his nightly routine or not. Luckily for her she heard the immediate shuffling of feet against the floor and the quick opening of the door.

"Good evening," he greeted with a soft smile. His tone was warm like it always was, but there was a hint of apprehension there as well.

"Hey," Mirika replied in return. "So…I was thinking we could try that whole 'getting into the other's mind' thing that Teach wanted us to do."

Seeing the way his eyes shifted slightly at the proposition, she already knew almost per batim what his answer was going to be.

This was the moment that he had been anticipating for a long time, having spent much of his time in his contemplations wondering where his loyalties laid. He desperately wished he didn't have to choose between his convictions or his Meister, but Bhante's advice continued to ring true within him about being gentle yet decisive in his words. Mister Harvar's words of caution also found their way inside of him, helping him to decide between the two.

If he couldn't sacrifice one little aspect of his life to be a better Weapon for her, what was he going to do if he was asked to sacrifice even more?

"I have thought about it and I believe that would be the best thing for us," he answered definitively.

To say that the Meister hadn't seen that one coming would have been a sure understatement.

"Cool," she said in a slight state of surprise. She really hadn't expected him to answer the way he did, instead anticipating his recitation of his strict religious regulations. "Well I was thinking we could do it like this; if you'll listen to one song with me, I'll do your meditation thing with you."

"Alright then," he affirmed. "Is that the song you have picked out?"

Holding up the square album for him to see, the artwork on the cover depicted a series of colorful, flaming eyes arranged in a circle against a blackened background.

"Yeah," she said. "They're a band called 10,000 Days. They're sort of a psychedelic metal band, but I promise it won't be anything super heavy with screaming or anything like that. I actually think you'll like these guys because a lot of their lyrics are really spiritual and deep."

"If you say so," he replied with a confirming nod.

Making their way towards the living room, Mirika pulled the shining blackened record from its sleeve and placed it atop the spindle in the player. Letting the needle fall, the stereo filled the room with the faint hissing and popping of the vinyl revolving quietly about the tabletop.

"This song's called 'The Golden Spiral'," she informed. "It's one of their best ones off this album."

"Am I supposed to do anything?" Shuvo questioned unsurely as he stood awkwardly by the player.

"Nope, just sit back, relax, and let the music take you where it takes you," she answered, lying back on the couch comfortably with hands propped behind her head and eyes closed.

Following her lead, he took a seat upon the floor in his familiar lotus position, closing his eyes as the first sounds began to manifest from the vinyl. It began with a soft dong, which was almost gong-like in its ways, leading itself into a rhythmic progression that mixed in with an escalating pounding drum.

The next ten minutes, Shuvo sat in utter stillness, listening attentively to the shifting harmonies of distorted guitars, bouncing bass lines and percussions, and flowing lyrical analogies. Time itself seemed to slow down as he was swept along for the ride, remaining straight faced and serene throughout its entirety. When at long last the final chord was struck and the echo faded into nothingness did he dare to open his eyes, watching as Mirika did the same. Lifting herself off the couch, she gently lifted the needle off before the next song could begin.

"So… what did you think?" she wondered with a content smirk, thoroughly having enjoyed the sonic adventure herself.

What was he to think, he asked himself? He had just blatantly broken a Precept, something he had always seemed to hold so dear to his heart. He had been expecting the painful wrench of guilt, preparing for the unforgiveness that he would not be able to render to himself, but finding instead something much more fulfilling.

"I enjoyed it," he smiled joyfully. "It was foreign and different, but I enjoyed it. It was as though they were painting a picture in my mind. Can we listen to another?"

* * *

**Author's Note: Alright guys, this is a pretty big chapter to take in with a lot of metaphysical, religious, and physics concepts going on, so if there's any questions you have about it let me know. I also want to clarify something about how I depict the souls. In the manga they use two ways to show souls; the way they actually are and what I call the "chibi soul". The chibi soul is the one with the cutesy facial expressions. Yeah, I don't do that. When I describe someone's soul, its how it actually is. **

**And just because I know you are all probably wondering, the real life song they listened to is "Lateralus" by TOOL. I like to throw my music references into the story without doing songfics, and the allusion to 10,000 Days is a pretty dead giveaway anyways for those who are familiar with both the band and the manga. **

**To be continued...**

**K.K. **


	14. Rapping, Rapping at the Reaper's Door

Chapter 14: Rapping, Rapping at the Reaper's Door: A Light in the Black or Just a Fear of the Dark?

Listing ever so gently to and fro in the rhythmic crashes of the bay waters, the line of antiquated naval ships creaked and moaned audibly as they swayed within their docks beneath the chilled autumn night. Reflecting the stars and the empty void of the moon above, the waters surrounding Baltimore Harbor tainted the air with the smell of fish as the repetitive tide lapped against the wooden supports of the numerous piers and marinas. Yellow and neon lights from the restaurants along the boardwalks helped to cut through the darkness, but in all truthfulness they were all for naught because there was nobody there to man them. In the past the lines would be out the door for patrons to get seats at any of the various seafood venues and the colonial cobblestone walkways would be filled with the echoes of migrating footsteps and babble from the masses of citizens and tourists, but not tonight. Now businesses had taken a drastic turn for the worst and only the ignorant and foolish ventured out into the city after sunset.

What had begun as only a few stand-alone missing person cases gone cold had only recently turned into a gruesome string of grisly homicides around the city. One night after another, the horrifyingly mutilated bodies of the missing would be found in side streets and alleyways; every single one of them with gaping holes in their chests where their souls had been torn out. With no doubt about in their minds, the city contacted the DWMA as soon as they could to report the pre-kishin.

They were immediately assured by the Grim Reaper himself that they would have their finest on location by day's end.

"Aye, Santa Muerte, this is boring," Remmy complained with a faint yawn as he passed beneath the lux glow of a lamppost. Although his initial reaction upon being given the green light for their first assignment had been that of great excitement and determination, he found out quickly enough upon their arrival that kishin eggs didn't exactly come with a big neon sign above their heads that read "Here I Am!". When other teams had said they were going kishin hunting, he never quite paid much attention to the fact that there would actually be hunting involved.

"Well it is a big city. It might take us a while to find it," Yumi replied, looking up at the fluttering sails of the colossal ships as they moved throughout the area where the most recent attacks had occurred. While she was certainly elated when Mister Sid had informed them that they were cleared for their first mission, she would have been lying to herself if she had said that she wasn't the least bit nervous. Although she and Remmy had been trying their best to get to know the ins and outs of combat, all the practice in the world couldn't prepare one for the real thing. While Lord Death had assured them during their briefing that this was supposed to be a Class-D pre-kishin that they could handle, hearing the reports about what had happened to the victims didn't do anything to ease her nerves.

Hanging low above them, the lampposts that lined the docks seemed to droop eerily on their own accord, casting long haunting shadows against the ground as their yellow fluorescent bulbs hummed in the autumn night. Passing beneath them, Meister and Weapon kept their eyes peeled for anything of suspicion, but had so far come up with nothing.

"So are you planning on going to the Hallows Eve Ball?" Remmy questioned off-handedly to his partner, trying to bring up any kind of conversation to cure his boredom. The brainchild of Lord Death's personal assistants the Thompson sisters, flyers and announcements about the masquerade were already going up around the Academy, much to the squeals of delight from many of its female students and the groans of dread from its males.

"I don't think I'll go," Yumi answered with mild dejectedness. "I don't really like parties all that much."

"Why not? Can't dance or something?" the tri-ponytailed boy wondered jokingly. "Don't worry, it's not a big deal if you can't."

"No, it's not that," the Demon Musket replied meekly. Looking out over the waters of the harbor, she noticed that a stiff chilling breeze was beginning to make its way inland, carrying grey clouds with them that cast their shadows upon the earth below.

"So what is it?" Remmy pressed in interest.

"It's nothing," she insisted quickly. "I just don't do very well in crowds. They make me uncomfortable."

Passing beneath the fluorescent glow of a hunched over lamppost, wisps of heavy fog were beginning to roll in off the waters, floating inches off the ground in a silvery haze.

"Oh, it won't be that bad," Remmy assured. "It's not like it's a whole bunch of strangers that'll be there. It's just people from the Academy. Nobody's going to put you on the spot."

"I don't know…" Yumi hesitated.

"I bet Shuvo will be there," he quipped with a sly grin.

Had it not been for the darkness that encompassed the two of them, the Meister would have easily been able to see the effect of his remark in the way of his partner's face flushing several shades of beet red.

"I-I-I…" the Weapon stammered in a flustered tick, trying her best to come up with some kind of coherent remark, much to the amused laughter of her Meister.

Moving along the docks, the thickening of the incoming fog began to drastically hinder their visibility, causing the glow of the lights to play off the grey veil in a haunting aura. Remaining on their toes, Meister and Weapon continued their perimeter scan in silence, broken only by the crashing of the waves against the boats as they rocked in the increasingly churning waters.

"I don't like this," the Arisaka confessed, her bubblegum pink irises shifting about rapidly behind her rounded glasses as she tried in vain to gaze through her surroundings.

"Stay sharp," he advised, doing his best to hide his own nervousness. "That kishin egg's got to be around here somewhere."

From out beyond the concealing wall of mist, a rustling sound made its presence known, putting the partners on edge as they stopped dead in their tracks. With tensed nerves, they scanned their surroundings in anticipation of whatever may come, keeping their senses on high alert in the darkness. Off to their right, the rustle repeated itself, causing them to shift rapidly in place, but they found only darkness awaiting them.

"Remmy…"

Bursting forth from out of the eerie haze, the shrill squawking caw of a blackened bird came at them, causing Yumi to screech in fright while instinctively ducking her head down. Fluttering by them, the winged beast perched itself upon the top of one of the street lights, cocking its head to the side as it observed its two frightened victims.

"Whew," the Meister breathed in satisfactory relief, chuckling lightly at himself for having been scared of something like that. "It's okay. It's just a stupid bird."

Unfurling herself from her defensive posture, Yumi looked up to see the faint golden irises of the creature staring back at her in curiosity from its position above them. Opening its beak wide, it appeared as though it were about to release another squawk, but something far more unusual came forth from the unsettling omen.

"Nevermore!"

It was a high-pitched, sinister voice laced with a harsh scratchiness in its tone. Sending chills down their spine, Yumi and Remmy stuck close together as they eyed the bird with extreme wariness.

"Nevermore!" it repeated again, flapping its wings in place in a threatening display.

"Shoo! Get out of here!" Remmy shouted, waving his hand in the air to no avail.

"Nevermore! Nevermore!

Flailing his arms at the mocking feathered menace, Remmy stopped when he picked up on the distinctive clapping of something striking the cobblestone around them, much in the way of slowly approaching footsteps. Coming out of the yellow and silver haze of the illuminated fog, a low snarl echoed from around them with a cackling chuckle. Alongside this, a booming, bouncing rap beat broke the silence of the night, filling the air with the pre-recorded scratching of vinyls and sampled mixes.

Casting quizzical glances to one another, Remmy and Yumi were at an utter loss about what was occurring, although they remained on their guard nonetheless. Standing side by side and watching the direction of the noise, they heard a voice rise up above the clamor in announcement.

"Yo, I see we have some lost souls in the house tonight! In that case, let me break it down for ya!"

Remaining concealed behind the haze, Meister and Weapon were all but completely confused by the proclamation. Disregarding the thumping of the beats, both of them could sense something amiss about the tone of the announcer's voice. It was bold and proclaiming, yet at the same time there was something dark and sinister about it.

"Yo, once upon a midnight dreary," it commenced in a beat-boxing rhythm.

"I saw a girl, her eyes were teary," a second voice continued on, causing the N.O.T. students to spin rapidly about to find its origin.

"Weeping over the mangled and rotten remains of bloody gore!" a third, shrill voice took up the stanza with gaining intensity, making it known that their victims were now entirely surrounded.

"While she stood there, clearly crying, suddenly too found the sting of dying,"

"As if someone savagely ripping, ripping out her heart once more,"

"'Tis my time,' she muttered", fleeting life upon the floor."

"Now both their souls are nevermore!" the three sang together in maniacal harmony.

Stepping forth out of the fog in a deliberately slow fashion, the veil momentarily subsided just enough for them to get a look at who had been the source of the morbidly dark freestyle. Bearing resemblance to one another as far as attire, the trio of figures were each donned in similarly fashioned black and purple gang attire and appearing to be somewhere around their late teens or early twenties, all of whom wore a similar golden bird-shaped chain around their necks.

The first was a tall, lean man in a sleeveless basketball jersey, low-hanging shorts, and untied purple sneakers with a bald head, while the second was of average height, but with a heavy frame, over the shoulder of which he carried the large boom box that blasted the rap beats. He was donned in extra wide baggy cargo shorts with a bandana jutting out one of the pockets and a black shirt that was easily three sizes too big even for him. A flat-brimmed cap sat backwards atop his head. The third, and possibly most terrifying of the three, was a short man with only a pair of purple shorts on and a head of corn-rowed hair. Unlike his accomplices, who both had a fair number of gang-affiliated tattoos, this one was covered near head to toe in ink; the words near indecipherable in the darkness. Beneath the light of the lamppost, he smiled a sinister, wicked grin, revealing the golden grill that fit over his sharpened teeth.

Bouncing up and down like a hyperactive child, he looked like a rabid dog eager to be set loose off of an invisible leash, ready to tear the souls out of the Meister and Weapon.

"Look what we've got here boys," the tallest of the three approached with a snickering grin. "A lil' sweet n' sour girl and her lover boy out for a lil' midnight stroll. Shouldn't you lil' kids be in bed?"

"Yeah," the stockier one confirmed as he stepped forward to tighten the noose around them. "Ain't nobody ever told ya it's dangerous to be out on the streets after dark? Ya never know just what kind of bad people ya may run into."

The littlest of the three said absolutely nothing, content to fidget about, snickering as he ran his tongue over the shining grill with a whetted appetite.

Taking another step closer as the rap beats continued to fill the air, the tallest one eyed Yumi devilishly, a gleam in his beady eyes playing off the light.

"Damn girl, I like what I see," he remarked coolly, rubbing his hand under his chin in contemplation, forcing her to step back ever further until she was pressing hard against her partner. "I like it so much we may not even kill you. Give ya a few years and you'd make a fine lil' schoolgirl bitch."

"Shut your mouth!" Remmy barked in retaliation at the derogatory remark.

Spying the glint of reflective silver against the night, the stocky one produced a large serrated knife from the waistband of his shorts.

"Better check yo'self, homie," he sneered in warning, pointing the blade at the young teen threateningly. "You're in E.A.P. territory now. Run dat mouth again and I'll take your soul slowly and painfully. Then I'll take those nice kicks off yo' dead ass."

Huddled close together, Remmy glared angrily at the trio of thugs, realizing the full extent of what they had gotten themselves into. It hadn't been just one random kishin egg terrorizing the streets of Baltimore, but three of them in a clique. That was what seemed so off about them from the beginning. These weren't just some wannabe hoodlums interested in robbery or causing mischief; they were after souls. His and Yumi's souls specifically.

To their left, the smallest gang member was losing his patience, crouching on the ground like a devilish little imp, practically chewing on his fingers in anticipation.

"I want the girl!" he gleefully announced. "She's mine! I want that delicious soul! I wanna rip it out with my bare hands!"

"Easy there, Lil' Poe," the bald ringleader smirked, continuing the eye the Arisaka up and down. "I like what I see. She's got potential. Once the E.A.P. takes over B-more I think we can trick her out for some big green. Playas pay big for the Asian ones."

Feeling Yumi trembling against him from the implied remarks, Remmy knew that this was way more than they had bargained for. The two of them on their very first mission had been anxious enough to face just one pre-kishin, but the odds had turned drastically against them in the blink of an eye. Asking them to take on three of them at once was a tall order for the rookies. Sid had drilled into them the importance of expecting the unexpected, and now they were coming to find out just how true that really was. He needed to think of something to get them out of this, and fast.

"Yumi, get ready for scatter shot," he whispered before turning back to the gang.

"Okay," she confirmed, trying her best to steel herself. This is what she and Remmy had been trained for by Mister Sid and she took solace in his belief in them. If he and Lord Death didn't believe they were ready for the field, they wouldn't have sent them on this mission in the first place.

With knife in hand, the heavyset thug eyed his accomplice, itching for a chance to sink his blade into one of them to get at their souls.

"Whatcha want us to do, Big Ed?" he questioned towards the supposed leader of the three.

"Keep the girl alive, Al-N. She'll make a prime bitch," came his definitive answer.

"And dis' fool?" he followed up, pointing the tip of his knife towards Remmy.

Time itself seemed to come to a standstill for the duo, already preparing themselves for the thug's predictable answer. Giving his Weapon a subtle nudge, Remmy signaled that it was now or never if they wanted to make it out of this one alive.

"Waste his ass."

Given the green light to do as they pleased, the smallest of the three known as Lil' Poe pounced like a hybrid mixture of a ravenous pitbull and a toad, his golden grill gleaming against the light as he barred his pointed teeth wide. Screeching with a demented cackle, he lived for moments like these where he could release all inhibitions and go absolutely feral. He never found himself becoming sated from the horrified expressions on his victims as he tore their souls out before their very eyes.

What he hadn't expected, however, was the brilliant flash of pink that blinded him and the subsequent muzzle of a shining steel barrel pointed directly at him. Erupting in a volley of lavender fire, dozens of pellet-sized wavelength shots peppered him from near point blank range, bursting across every inch of his exposed body. Caught off guard by the surprise assault, Lil' Poe tumbled awkwardly to the pavement, his flesh smoldering slightly from the shots.

"_Remmy, run!" _Yumi shouted from within her Weapon form. Not needing to be told twice, the ponytailed Meister sprinted through the opening and off into the fog in less of a tactical retreat than he would have liked to admit.

Groaning audibly from the impact of the shot, Lil' Poe quickly shook the blast off, spinning around on his hands and feet with a heinous snarl in search of his attackers.

"Da' hell was that, Al-N?!" Big Ed seethed in anger and surprise, taken just as much off guard as the other two.

"They're DW!" the stocky one replied, equally stunned by what had just happened.

"Do I look like I give a rat's ass who they are?!" the bald man fired back. "It's a lil' girl and a punk ass kid! Go get 'em!"

Not one to want to rile up the agitated hustler any further, he growled in frustration before turning to his fellow hyperactive gangster.

"C'mon, Poe! Let's go waste these suckas!" he barked, taking off in an awkward jog with knife in hand as he followed his rabid accomplice into the night.

* * *

Sitting easily in his high-backed chair, Lord Death watched the unfolding events upon the prominent mirror from the comfort of the Death Room. Sipping on a cup of tea after another arduous day of heading up the Academy, he somehow found the time and energy to evaluate some of his rookie students in action as they were sent on their first assignment.

"Don't you think this might have been a little bit too much for them?" he wondered aloud, directing the question to the blue zombie who stood erect beside him. "I have to admit I'm still skeptical of having allowed N.O.T. students to take on this kind of mission right off the bat."

"I've never given any of the students more than I thought they could handle," Sid stated with crossed arms, watching the Demon Musket and Meister attentively. "That's not the kind of man I was."

"Even still, taking on three kishin eggs at the same time isn't easy for anyone at the N.O.T. level, no matter how low of a class they are," Kid countered knowingly.

"That's true, but I wanted to see just what kind of teamwork Arisaka and Tonne can pull under pressure," Sid replied. "That's why I didn't send a second team as backup. I figured the E.A.P. gang would be a good first test to work on some of the basics I've been teaching them. By themselves the gang members are Class-Ds, but put together they're more like a Class-C, so it should make for more of a challenge. It may not be the most ideal mission for a first time, but if they can stick to their training and avoid some of their personal shortcomings they should be alright."

Watching as a brilliant flash of neon purple fire erupted from the business end of the Weapon and connected with one of its targets, Kid cocked a curious brow.

"What kind of shortcomings?" he wondered, taking a sip of his herbal brew as he watched the Meister on the screen use the opportunity allotted by his attack to escape the surrounding thugs.

"Yumi is a Demon Musket, so she's a projectile-based Weapon that fires her Meister's soul wavelength just like Liz and Patty," Sid elaborated. "But her bloodline as an Arisaka gives her a major advantage over other firearm Weapons. It's sort of like a small built in booster for wavelengths that gives her shots an extra punch against targets. She can put a wavelength round through a meter of solid concrete from fifty meters away."

"Impressive," the Reaper hummed in approval.

"Yeah. She may be a little girl, but she has a lot more firepower than I think even she realizes," the tattooed zombie confirmed. "However, that same booster that makes her different is also her Achilles heel. It comes at the drastic cost of her rate of fire. Even though she's in her Weapon form, her physical body can only stand so many backlashes from those powerful shots, so she has to limit how often she can fire Remmy's wavelength. We concluded that the healthy average is one shot around every fifteen seconds. Anything faster than that can cause damage to her body."

"That really is a hindrance, but if she can hit her target then she can take out kishin eggs with only one or two shots. From what it sounds like the best course of action would be to try to mould these two into an effective sniper team."

Heaving a heavy sigh, Sid rubbed his gorilla-like hand behind his head in mild embarrassment.

"That was my first impression as well, but we sort of hit a few snags with that plan," he replied sheepishly.

"How so?" the shinigami questioned.

"Two things really. The first is Yumi's rounds are strong, but their accuracy isn't the greatest. Anything past a hundred meters is really a crap shoot, so she's not ideal for long range. And the other issue is Remmy. I don't want to sound like I'm talking bad about one of my students, because that's not the kind of man I was, but well…"

Trailing off, Sid continued to scratch the back of his head, unsure just how to nicely phrase what he wanted to convey. Earning a quizzical look from Lord Death that begged him to finish what he had started, the G.W.A.A.R. instructor decided to just come out with it.

"Well…frankly the kid can't hit the broad side of a barn."

* * *

Crouched low with his back resting against the base of a wide oak tree, Remmy had now found himself in a small park residing beside the harbor, struggling to reign in his heavy breathing that left small tufts of vapor in front of his face. Clutching Yumi close to him, he silently hoped that he had taken out that maniacal evil human with his point blank shot, but he knew that he most likely hadn't. Scatter shot was a technique that he and Yumi had developed together with Sid's help to cover a wider area of space by dividing his wavelength into dozens of smaller shots, but as a result each individual pellet was significantly weaker than a normal wavelength round. The best he had probably done with scatter shot was maimed the thug, but not enough to neutralize him.

"Aye, Santa Muerte, that was a close one," he panted, remembering quickly that once he fired off a shot he needed to start counting down in his head for when Yumi would be good to go again.

"_Did we lose them?" _Yumi questioned, her voice hitching in her throat as she spoke. This was now far beyond anything she had ever heard Grandma Roza or Grandpa Isoroku describe when she listened to them recollect about their times at the Academy. When she had sat and listened as a little girl to them tell their stories they had always painted such a romantically heroic picture so unlike the one she now found herself in. She had envisioned them in their prime as beautifully righteous warriors dutifully gathering the wicked souls of the world in the name of Old Lord Death. Never had they mentioned anything about being ogled at as a prospective prostitute or running for their lives.

"I think we lost them for now, but they won't be far behind," Remmy answered in a shushed tone, peeking his head out from behind the trunk of the tree only to find empty darkness and lamp-lit mist. Off in the not-so-far distance he could see the very faint outline of the ships in the harbor through the thin tree line.

"Dang it, I should've just used a regular round instead of scatter shot," he murmured in frustration. "I know I wouldn't have missed from that close."

"_It's okay, Remmy,"_ Yumi consoled as best as she could, thankful that they at the very least had managed to escape the thugs' circle.

"No, it's not okay," the Meister growled lowly, not at her, but at himself. "That was the perfect shot to take him out and I blew it."

From within her Weapon form, Yumi could feel her partner's shaking wavelength which unfortunately had become an all too familiar sensation during their short time together. Outside of school she found the young Brazilian teen to be happy-go-lucky, easy going, and even a little bit dorky despite his slightly perverted nature. However, once he stepped into the G.W.A.A.R. class, something about him seemed to change. He would become anxious and high-strung, constantly dreading their time when they had to do target practice. No matter how much of Mister Sid's advice he soaked in or how many targets he fired at, his shots always travelled downrange in the most erratic of fashions. It was a miracle if he could even graze a human-sized silhouette from ten meters away. That's when Mister Sid had suggested the idea of having her divide his soul wavelength up into numerous smaller rounds to create a shotgun effect. It helped to slightly alleviate the accuracy issue, but Remmy was still his own worst critic.

"_Remmy…it's alright," _she repeated, her voice a little softer. _"We can't worry about that right now. We need to think of what we're going to do if they find us."_

Knowing that his partner was right, Remmy reminded himself that now wasn't the time to beat himself up. The E.A.P. gang was bound to show up any minute and they needed to be ready for them with some kind of plan.

"Alright," he nodded. "They don't know where we are, so at least we have the advantage. We can use the fog and the shadows as cover and wait for one of them to get close enough to get a good shot. That way we'll have the element of surprise."

Shattering the silence of the air around them, the distinctive crack of snapping wood echoed through the night, sending a chill down the duo's spines that had nothing to do with the ambient temperature.

Looking up above them, a pair of sinister golden eyes almost entirely masked by the shadows of the tangled branches stared down upon them with a murderous gleam. Said orbs belonged to Lil' Poe, who seemed to defy gravity as he clung inverted upon the tree like a stalking squirrel.

"Surprise!" the inked gangster cackled with a shrill screech, pouncing headlong towards the unsuspecting students from the canopy top.

With no time to react, Remmy instinctively rolled over from his sitting position, thrusting the Demon Musket in front of him defensively. With a wicked snarl and a painful grunt, Meister and evil human collided in a violent heap of bodies upon the ground, the former barely able to keep his attacker at bay as the razor sharp grill snapped at him like a gold bear trap, crunching into Yumi's wine-hued stock and barrel.

"_Ah! Remmy, get him off!"_ she screamed in equal mixture of fright and pain, feeling every bite mark sinking into her physical flesh.

With a mighty shout of desperation, Remmy used the elongated barrel of the Weapon as leverage to heave Lil' Poe off of him, flinging him back and giving him a precious second to hop back on his feet. A short distance away, the gang member landed on all fours and came charging right back undeterred.

"I'm gonna enjoy tearing your soul out of your bloody corpse!" he shrieked, coming at the Meister with a single animalistic focus. "I can't wait! I want it now!"

With the feral target closing in fast, Remmy didn't have time to think of his doubts or fears. This wasn't target practice at the Academy anymore; this was kill or be killed. Raising the butt of the Demon Musket to his shoulder quickly, he leveled the muzzle directly in front of the charging man and pulled the trigger, watching as the steel hammer fell with a snap. Feeling the concussive thud against his shoulder and the booming thunder of the purple flame, his breath was lost in the moment of do or die.

Burning bright against the silver fog, the full wavelength round rocketed out of the barrel, leaving a trail of fluorescence in its wake before skewing just right of Lil' Poe and embedding itself in the wood of a nearby oak, piercing straight through it before the sheer force of the round caused the tree to shatter in half at the point of entry and fall in a rain of splinters and branches.

"No…"

Standing there with a face that was both dumbfounded and aggravated that he had missed yet again, Remmy now found himself completely vulnerable as Lil' Poe cackled wildly at his misfortune. Closing in for the kill, the evil human's eyes shone with bloodlust as he barred his teeth.

"_Remmy!" _

The only thing the Demon Musket Meister was aware of in the following moments were the droplets of something wet splattering across his face, filling his nostrils with the pungent aroma of copper. Eyes wide in petrified terror, his body had frozen stiff as he remained upright, clutching onto Yumi with a white-knuckled grip.

Stopped dead in his murderous pursuit, Lil' Poe had found himself suddenly skewered through his chest by a slender length of lavender light slightly under a meter long protruding from the underside of the Demon Musket. Coughing up mouthfuls of blood, he shrieked demonically as he writhed in vain to get at his prey who remained at bay due to the length of the Weapon, only to erupt in a cyclone of blackened ribbons. Dissolving into the night with a primal snarl, a glowing red mass of tainted soul was all that remained of the thug, floating harmlessly with an evil crimson glow.

Pulsing bright against the darkness, the light of the protrusion shattered, leaving behind a long triangular steel blade in its place.

"_Are you okay, Remmy?!" _Yumi cried in worry, completely disregarding the fact that they had just collected their first corrupted soul or that she had somehow unconsciously saved both of them from being ripped to shreds and their souls devoured.

With traces of freshly spilled blood running lines down his face, her partner stood still as stone, flabbergasted that somehow he was still alive. Somehow, by some miracle of the merciful Santa Muerte, they had both survived to live another day.

"Yeah," he managed to mutter, forcing his shaking hands to relax their vice-like hold. "How did you do that? I mean, have you always had a bayonet?"

Elated to see that her partner was unharmed , she breathed a sigh of relief to calm herself.

"_No, I never knew," _she answered, shaking her head within the black expanse around her. _"It must be a bloodline trait that awakened when I knew you were in danger." _

"Well it literally couldn't have come at a better time," he commented with a small chuckle, returning to his normal self for a brief moment.

Their victory, however, was short lived as he happened to pick up the sound of a disgruntled voice in the distance and the thumping of sneakers against the pavement. Knowing full well that they were nowhere close to being out of the woods yet, he cleared his head of any stray thoughts and turned it towards the task at hand. Ducking behind a tree, he watched the area surrounding the marina warily to see who was approaching.

"It's the big guy," he whispered, seeing the hefty silhouette cast against the yellow glow of the lampposts off in the distance. Realizing that he had probably lagged behind his impish friend and followed the sound of the commotion, Remmy knew that unlike Lil' Poe, the element of surprise really was on their side this time around. They knew exactly where their target was and he didn't seem to have spotted them yet, although getting within almost point blank range to take him out was a feat easier said than done.

"_How are we going to get close enough to get a good shot?"_ Yumi asked nervously.

Cogitating on the predicament, Remmy wracked his brain for some kind of solution to their dilemma. Off in his peripherals he glimpsed the steady red glow of the corrupted soul still levitating easily above the ground.

"We're not going to go to him," he stated as he quickly formulated a makeshift plan. "We're going to make him come to us. We'll fire off a shot to signal him and when he comes to investigate he'll see the soul and we can use that to draw him in close enough to sneak attack him."

"_Are you sure that's a good idea?" _she questioned with reservation. _"What if he finds us before we can get the second shot off?" _

"He won't," Remmy assured. "Look how long it took him to get over here. He's big and slow, so even if he finds us we can outmaneuver him. And now that you have that bayonet, that'll give me a backup in case I miss."

"_Okay then," _Yumi replied, seemingly convinced enough that his plan would work.

Readying himself mentally, Remmy wrote the sign of a Death Skull across his chest before turning and firing randomly, filling the air with the resonating echoes of his volley. Quickly hugging himself against the back of a nearby tree, he did his absolute best to melt into the shadows, ensuring that no part of his body or Yumi's reflective steel was visible. Mouthing off the numbers silently, he began at fifteen and worked his way down towards zero.

Waiting in agonizing anticipation, the following shouts from the target and the thumping of his awkward jog towards the hiding spot meant that the first step of the plan was going exactly the way he wanted it to.

"Yo, Poe, where ya at homie?!" the one known as Al-N shouted as he approached as fast as his hefty frame could carry him. Bursting through the fog with an awkward lumber, it would have been almost comical a sight to watch him try to keep his baggy shorts from pooling around his ankles had it not been for the knife he clutched in his hand and his underlying intent to gut the meddling DWMA students like a couple of fish.

By the heinous snarl of rage that roared through the night and the following string of foul-mouthed expletives, Remmy deduced that he had found what had become of his accomplice. It was still just a little too early for him to try to make his move, though. Al-N had arrived on the scene a tad faster than he had initially anticipated.

"…_five…four…three…" _he counted in his head as the kishin egg raged mere meters away. _"…two…one…"_

Spinning out from behind his concealment, Remmy prepared himself to fire, cocking the hammer back with his thumb as he raised Yumi up in a fluid motion to train her on the unsuspecting target.

"Gotcha," he murmured.

Lowering the barrel down swiftly, he was caught by a sudden snag, unable to bring her to bear fully. Looking up much to his horrification, the thug now towered directly in front of them with one hand clutching his knife and the other latched firmly around the Demon Musket's barrel with an iron grip. Casting a wide shadow over them, his eyes glowed a demonic burning hellfire and a shadowy aura of murderous vengeance radiated from his figure.

"You'z a dead mofo now!" he raged, rearing back to slash at the Meister.

In the frantic moment Remmy did the only thing he could think of and pulled the trigger, sending a flash of muzzle blast searing over the thug's shoulder and clipping part of his face. Although the round missed, the blinding burst and concussive shockwave sent the assailant staggering backwards, but not before the tip of his blade found its mark. Slicing into the Meister's left bicep, the sting of the edge caused him to pull his hand away from Yumi's stock with a shouting hiss of pain, leaving a trail of fresh crimson blood to pool down his arm.

"_Are you alright?!"_

"I'm fine!" he shouted with a wince. "Just a scrat…"

Cut short as every ounce of breath was knocked out of him, the hefty kishin egg came barreling through in a blinded rage with a strength and speed that Meister had not been prepared to encounter. Lifting the teen clear off his feet with all the force of a charging bull, the thug carried the duo in a vicious embrace before slamming them headlong into the trunk of a tree. With feet dangling above the ground, the kishin egg pinned him by the throat with his free hand, flashing his blade in front of his face.

"I'ma make good on dat promise and take your punk ass soul slow and painful," he growled lowly, running the edge of his knife over Remmy's cheek, leaving a faint line of blood to seep from the cut. "Then I'm gonna do the same to dat lil' Asian bitch of yours."

Clutching Yumi in one hand and using the other to claw at the gripping hold that was now squeezing tight around his jugular, Remmy could feel the world around him slowly dimming from his vision as Al-N constricted him with an evil grin. Gasping for air and kicking his legs in vain, all he ended up doing was waste precious oxygen as he began to lose consciousness. He could have sworn that he heard Yumi's shrill scream, but in all honesty he couldn't tell. Blood was rushing to his brain, cancelling out all sounds from the outside and filling his ears with a piercing ring. Feeling his muscles slacken, his arms drooped to their sides as Yumi slipped from his grasp, landing upright upon the ground with the tip of her barrel barely resting within his loosened hand.

Eyes shutting wearily, Remmy's world went dark.

Falling in through the blackened expanse, he couldn't tell where his mind and his body diverged. Looking around, he seemed to be floating in space, his physical being now but a glowing purple shell; an astral body lost in limbo. All he really knew was that whatever this place was, it was void and numb. But this couldn't have been it, he thought. It couldn't all end here so suddenly. Not like this. Not on their first mission, and certainly not at the hands of a bunch of low life pieces of scum like these third rate thugs. There was so much left to prove; so many things left to accomplish.

What about his goal? What about Mãe and Gabriela? Who was going to protect and look after them and the shop if he was gone?

What about all the people at the Academy he was just starting to become close to? What about his friends?

What about Yumi?

From out of the phantasm, a faint light revealed itself to him, filling the void with a calming blue glow. Somehow, without him really trying, Remmy found himself floating closer towards the source of the radiance. Coming upon a small orb of a light cerulean hue, he found it was a soul, but knew instinctively that this wasn't just anyone's. This was Yumi's, and he could feel that she was in distress.

Gritting his teeth, his astral self began to shake in anger and resolve.

'_No, dammit!' _he seethed within his mind. _'I'm not going to die today! In the name of the Holy Santa Muerte, dammit I'm not going to die now!'_

Falling backwards into the black, it was as though a giant, invisible hand had grabbed hold of him by the back of his collar and yanked him with astounding force. Rushing away from Yumi's soul, the sight of her glow retreating away from him was replaced by the flood of sensation refilling his nerves.

Breathing in deep with a heaving gasp, the chilled, misty air filled his lungs once more, giving him a second wind and new life. Having only the faintest state of mind, his eyes shot open as he found his voice in a screaming, blood-curling roar of defiance. Latching hold of Yumi's cold barrel that barely rested against his fingertips, he swung the lengthy Weapon out wide effortlessly with all the force he could muster, plunging the bayonet in through the kishin egg's side.

Releasing his hold on the young Meister, Al-N staggered back with a booming shout of agony, feeling the slender point skewer him all the way through his torso from one side to the other. Dropping his own knife, he yanked the bayonet from his abdomen and flung the Demon Musket to the side as a geyser of blood began to spew from his entry wounds.

Not wasting the opportunity allotted to him, Remmy disregarded his own wounds and sprinted as fast as he could towards Yumi, retrieving her off the dampened ground and spun around hurriedly in a crouch. Raising the butt of her stock to his shoulder rapidly, he leveled her against Al-N's midsection, cocked the hammer back, and fired, feeling the all familiar recoil of her lavender shot as it erupted out the muzzle in a neon blast.

Spiraling erratically as it homed in on the hefty target, the wavelength round barely found its mark in the target's right shoulder, piercing through flesh and bone and ripping the entirety of his arm and pectorals clear off his body. It wasn't the dead center shot that Remmy had been hoping for, but it was enough for the kill as Al-N staggered about in a vengeful stupor before collapsing and dissolving in the same series of twisting blackened ribbons as Lil' Poe, leaving a second crimson soul to cast its evil radiance against the night.

Heaving a sigh of utmost relief, Remmy slackened the tension in his muscles, his face twisting into a laughing smile of utter disbelief as he came down from his adrenaline high. For the second time that night, he and Yumi had narrowly thwarted their graves, reaping two corrupted souls as their rewards. Flashing bright pink in his hands, Yumi returned to her human form, latching onto the stunned Meister and burrowing her head in the numerous pendants dangling in front his chest.

"Don't you ever scare me like that again!" she sobbed, thick wells of tears pooling behind her glasses and running onto his bloodstained football kit. Choking on her words, she hiccupped as she tried to fight back her emotions, but couldn't seem to stop herself.

Taken aback by his partner's sudden display of affectionate concern, Remmy's smile softened as he sat upon the dampened ground awkwardly with the Arisaka legacy clinging to him tight. Reaching around hesitantly, he patted her back in consolation, hoping that she would stop her crying.

"Sorry," he apologized. "I didn't mean to make you worry. I'll be more careful next time."

Feeling her grip around his chest loosen, her tears subsided as she let out whatever anguish remained before finally letting go. Standing up, she wiped her bubblegum eyes with her sleeve, allowing him a chance to catch his breath and stagger awkwardly to his feet.

"No, I'm sorry," she sniffed. "I'm your Weapon. I'm supposed to be the one protecting you."

To her surprise, she felt her arms pinned to her side as she was caught in the Meister's hug. It wasn't constricting and fearful as hers had been, but was warm and compassionate in the way a dear brother would comfort her after a nightmare.

"By my count, that's three times you've protected me tonight."

Releasing her, he spun around and began his trekking back into the fog, leaving her standing there in befuddlement.

"C'mon, we're not done yet," he stated. "We've still got one left to take care of."

* * *

Sitting on the round table in front of him, Lord Death's cup of tea remained untouched, now cold and bitter from neglect. With hands placed firmly beneath his chin, he was caught upon the literal and figurative edge of his seat as he watched the battle unfold, unable to take his golden eyes away from the mirror for even a second. Beside him, Sid still stood with crossed arms, his expression entirely neutral as he too soaked in what had just transpired with his students.

"Sid," the shinigami addressed evenly to the zombie. "How did he do it?"

Baffled by the nature of the question at hand, the G.W.A.A.R. instructor turned to his superior with a look of perplexion.

"He didn't give up," he replied obviously. "Remmy's not one to just roll over and quit. And he has a strong Weapon alongside him."

"Not Remmy. Father," Kid stated simply. "How did he stand here day in and day out and watch his students do battle with the vilest beings on earth, unable to do anything but wait and see if they lived or died?"

Seeing what the Reaper was getting at, Sid breathed a deep, knowing sigh as he contemplated his response.

"Lord Death wholeheartedly believed in the inner potential of every single one of his students, from the N.O.T. students to the Death Scythes," he answered firmly. "Just because he often seemed relaxed while he watched his students battle corrupted souls doesn't mean he didn't care deeply for their well being. When I was still alive there was a time when two students were taken from this world far too soon. The whole Academy mourned their loss, but I never saw anyone filled with more grief than Lord Death. He didn't always express it openly, but he cared for all of his student's like they were his children. I believe that's the same way you should look at your students. You can't do their missions for them and you can't always be there to protect them. All you can do is let them grow and learn."

* * *

"This is gettin' stupid! How long does it take to waste a lil' girl and a punk kid?!"

Pacing back and forth along the harbor docks in growing impatience, Big Ed mumbled and cursed at nobody in particular, awaiting the return of his posse with the two souls he sent them after.

"Damn DW! That bitch Grim Reaper trying to mess with a brotha's business!" he griped. "Who does that sucka think he's dealin' with?! I'm the real OG of this town! It won't be long 'fore everybody knows 'bout the E.A.P.s!"

Interrupting his vocal monologues, the sharp snap and boom preceded the volley of dozens of pellets emerging out of the fog, striking low to the ground around his lanky legs. Crumpling to the pavement with an excruciating grunt, the ringleader found himself staring up at the clouded sky above as the rhythmic clapping of footsteps approached him from behind. Trying quickly to stand up, he found himself unable to as both of his legs had been all but shattered in two by the surprise attack. Looking frantically behind him, his eyes grew wide as he saw none other than the ponytailed kid standing over him, the tapered point of a long blade pointed directly between his eyes. Lifting his basketball jersey up, he quickly reached into his waistband, producing a chrome handgun that he attempted to aim at the teen.

Spitting a vile expletive, his attack was quickly neutralized by the swift kick of a shoe against his hand, causing him to release the gun from his grasp. With the sharpened edge of the bayonet still trained at his head, he saw the kid shuffle around and kick the firearm off the dock, landing in the water with a soft splash.

"Yo man, easy!" he said, his voice showing the true cowardice that lay beneath. "What is it you want?! I can get you anything! Money?! Power?! Women?! I'm Big Ed, dawg! I can hook you up nice!"

Remaining silent, the teen just glared at him with a merciless gleam.

"Is this 'bout the me callin' her a bitch thing?! I take it back!"

Much to his surprise, the kid removed the bayonet from his face and took a few steps away from him, although the dark hole of the muzzle was still pointed right at him.

"You think that's the first time I've ever had a gun pointed at me?" he questioned lowly, his tone mocking in its timbre. "I grew up in the favelas, dawg. There's nothing I want that you can just buy. Money…power…women…I've seen firsthand what those things do to people."

Cocking the hammer back, he held the barrel steady upon the kishin egg.

"Big Ed of the E.A.P. gang of Baltimore, know this," he addressed in dramatic announcement. "My name is Remmy Tonne, No Star Meister of the DWMA. I wield the Demon Musket Arisaka Yumi of the noble Arisaka clan, whose honorable name you've defiled. In the name of Lord Death and the Holy Santa Muerte, you have been sentenced to pay for your sins against the innocent souls you and your gang have devoured.

Making the sign of a Death Skull across his chest with his right hand, he squeezed the trigger, producing a brilliant flash of lavender that marked the end of their first mission as students of Lord Death's Academy.


	15. Listen, Lie, and Wait

Chapter 15: Listen, Lie, and Wait: I See the Moon, the Moon Sees Me?

Dancing lightly upon the archaic stone walls of the sanctuary, the series of slender candles lining the halls cast their gentle glows upon the steady influx of patrons that filled the atmosphere with a dull roar. Filing into the inner open chamber of their place of meeting, the witches took their appropriate seats within their council or chose to stand within the crowd before the monumental curved cross. Some of the members stood in quiet observance, awaiting the beginning of their meeting, while others, most notably the younger witches, filled the time with idle chatter and gossip.

Levitating easily before her congregation, the respectful silences and shushing whispers acknowledged the arrival of their figurehead. Waiting until the entirety of the crowd fell silent, Mabaa nodded her head in satisfaction before beginning.

"Joma Joma Sutasia," the Grand Witch prompted to the attentive crowd.

"Joma Joma Sutasia," the sanctuary reverberated as the witches' returned the formal greeting, lowering their heads in a bow with their hands ceremonially placed over their hearts.

"As Grand Witch I now declare this Witches' Mass open," Mabaa announced lowly, fluttering down just over the stone flooring of the chamber. "Please proceed with our discussions at hand, Kaiyo."

"Yes, Mabaa-sama," the Kitsune Witch replied, taking her position behind her podium, tapping her pipe against the stone out of habit. "As of late, the shinigami and his dogs have actually held true to their word that the souls of witches would not be hunted down for the creation of his Death Scythes. There have been no reported altercations between their forces and the Coven as they appear to have turned their attention back towards the disposal of corrupted souls, although I doubt that this will last for very long. I believe that it's only a matter of time before their lust for power will drive them back towards their old ways."

"Nyamu," Mabaa warned lowly, growing tired of her subordinate failing to cease in her grudges.

Growling beneath her breath that her heartfelt cautions continued to be dismissed by their leader, Kaiyo bit her tongue before the Mass, moving on with their agenda.

"In keeping with his radical new world order, the shinigami has made a bold request of the Coven asking that we may permit younger witches to attend his school if they so desire," she continued, her lips struggling to form the sentence with a straight façade. The mere thought that she had just uttered such blasphemy was making her physically nauseous, but that was only the beginning of her woes. "After deliberation, Mabaa-sama has decided to grant the request on the grounds that any witch who wishes to cross sides not be excommunicated from the Coven and will maintain full status as such so long as they continue to contribute towards the advancement of our interrelations."

Erupting in a deafening clamor, the Mass was filled with the boisterous voices of protest and a select few of celebration, no one single witch decipherable amongst the roar.

"Silence!" Kaiyo barked in fuming anger, slamming her pipe against the podium with such force that it snapped in two, spreading smoldering embers and ash across its face. Her rage stemmed not from the fact that the Mass was in an uproar, but from her own inner conflictions seeping out just for a brief moment.

"This is the decision that Mabaa-sama has made and so it shall be done!" she announced, disguising her own reservations behind a veil of rage.

The despise and contempt that filled her soul was burning like the deepest fathoms of hell itself, but there was nothing more she could do beyond holding it all inside and locking it away. As Mabaa-sama's mediator between her and the Mass as well as the upholder of the Coven's laws as the Witch Judge, she was in no position to convey her personal feelings beyond the power allotted her; at least not with her superior present. If the Grand Witch made it known as law, then it was her faithful duty to enforce it to the fullest extent of her capabilities, regardless of whether she agreed with it or not.

"I request an audience with the Mass!"

Emerging from the throngs of witches, a bold voice came forth with its desire to be heard. Searching quickly with piercing eyes for its origin, Kaiyo spotted the raised hand jutting upwards in signal. Turning to Mabaa-sama for confirmation, she received a nod of approval before calling upon the witch.

"Audience granted," Kaiyo declared. "You may address the Coven, Sibylla."

Making her way through the congregation as her fellow witches parted a path for her, a slender woman approached the front of the room with a casual grace, striding barefoot with light steps across the cold cobblestone floor. She was of median age in appearance for those in the Coven, seeming to be around the realm of her late twenties by human standards. Donned in a short, sleeveless figure-hugging black dress that contained jagged yellow-orange bands running across her torso, long creamy legs poked out beneath the hem that barely reached her calves. Her hair was done up in a peculiar half and half bob style, with the left side being of light orange that ran off the side while the right gradiated into an onyx-hued point that was pulled into a curved taper across her cheek, bearing resemblance to an insect's stinger.

"Thank you, Mabaa-sama," the woman stated politely with a small smile, bowing with her hand over her heart out of courtesy before turning to address her audience with amber eyes.

"Fellow members of the Coven, all I ask for is a few moments of your time," she announced calmly. "I only want to say this, and I implore you to please listen. For the first time in our history I see a rift beginning to form between the older and the younger generations, and it honestly frightens me how it can be allowed to continue. As witches, our race has become decimated over the centuries, but here we are dividing ourselves up even further. This must stop now if we hope to avoid falling into obscurity. I ask that we can set aside our petty differences and do what needs to be done so that we not only survive as witches, but can begin the long journey ahead of us towards prospering once again without fear of the Grim Reaper or his forces. I can't think of a single one of us here that doesn't want witches to be able to live peaceful lives without worry, and if there is anyone who thinks otherwise I thoroughly believe they should be tried for high treason against the Coven. It is time for us to mend our divisions and do what is best for us as a whole. Thank you."

Ending her speech, she bowed politely before retreating back into the audience, earning a mixture of responses from her fellow witches ranging from quizzical looks to a slowly building clap of approval. She could see from her spot in the middle of the crowd that Mabaa-sama seemed pleased by what she had said, and that made her feel better about her decision to speak her mind.

"Very well then," Kaiyo remarked firmly, seemingly unimpressed by the witch's personal declaration. "Regardless of anyone's convictions, this is the decision that has been made. End of discussion. Moving onto other matters, the issue regarding the Kishin Asura and the Demon Swordsman Crona continues to remain one open for debate. There has been no activity coming from the moon since our agreement to assist Shibusen, however we remain uncertain if this is a permanent situation or if there remains the possibility of the Black Blood weakening its containment. Shibusen has yet to divulge any information they have obtained on the Black Blood, making it difficult for us to decide on any course of action. In any case, in the possibility of the worst case scenario we will use whatever means necessary to keep the Coven safe from harm."

Her declaration was met with much approval from her audience, who nodded their heads in agreement in a dull rise of whispers. However, at the very back of the audience a faint snort of contempt filled the air as Kim watched on from a distance. Despite being Kid's liason for the witches, she knew from her first encounter that she was hardly welcomed back into the sanctuary with open arms, and that suited her just fine. Frankly, the feeling was every bit mutual. Knowing this, she and Jacqueline kept out of sight and out of mind as the Mass discussed their agenda.

"Keep the Coven safe? That's a laugh," she snarked in a hushed voice as she leaned up against the wall with crossed arms, wishing she was as far away from this place as possible. "She really doesn't get it, does she?"

"Get what?" Jacqueline questioned, watching the unfolding Mass progress with an even expression.

"Kaiyo's under the delusion that things are going to go back to the way they were back before they helped us on the moon. It's obvious that she's just saying what Mabaa-sama wants to hear, but on the inside she's fighting this treaty tooth and nail. Her idea of 'keeping the Coven safe' is letting the DWMA handle the dirty work while they watch from the sidelines. It still hasn't gotten through that thick skull of hers that Asura isn't just our problem; he's everyone's problem. But it's not just her though. If by some chance Asura were to get loose again, my bet is that it'll be just like before where only a few of the witches will willingly help out instead of all of them. Mabaa-sama and Kid can make all the treaties and agreements they want, but if push comes to shove I'm not holding my breath for the entire Coven to come and fight."

"Kid's fairly convinced that Asura can't escape, but I see your point," the Demon Lantern replied. "Even with everything that's happened, there's still just too much bad blood between everyone. A piece of paper's not going to make their hate disappear just like that."

"Not a chance," Kim confirmed. "It's going to be up to the younger witches and students to make this whole alliance work."

"They want it to, but the older witches still hold a lot of the power in the Coven, even with Mabaa-sama trying to change everything."

Glaring at the Kitsune Witch and the rest of the witches from a distance as they went about their meeting, Kim watched them bicker and squabble amongst themselves with Kaiyo's consistent barking momentarily silencing them before they would resume. Mabaa-sama may have been the Grand Witch, but Jacqueline was right about that one. The older witches may not have had the final say so in everything, but they could definitely throw their weight around from behind the scenes. This rift that was beginning to form was slowly expanding along the generation gap, and unbeknownst to him, Kid had just inadvertently widened it even further with his plan to allow witches into the Academy. She couldn't say that she necessarily disapproved of the idea, but something in her gut told her that it wasn't going to be as simple as welcoming them in with open arms.

"C'mon, Jackie, we'll come back whenever they're done," she said, slipping silently down the stone hall to leave the Coven to their devices. "There's only so much of this place I can take at once."

* * *

Another day within Death City had come and gone as the soft blanket of night fell easily over its patrons, casting the faint shimmering light of its stars upon them. Candles and streetlights helped to illuminate the streets and alleys in pleasant glows as their soft flames flickered easily in the gentle autumn breeze. Even though they were surrounded by desert and barren land on all sides, with the arrival of the moon the heat of the day quickly subsided as the temperature dropped to a happy medium.

Coiled up easily next to her windowsill, Maka stared out through the open glass to gaze upon the place where the once wicked, laughing moon had cast its light in what seemed like a time not so long ago; shining emerald orbs meeting the single one of voided black. Subconsciously stroking Blair behind her ears, the magical feline purred softly at her touch, flicking her tail happily in content as she rode that blissful line between silence and sleep. Although the Two Star would have preferred to have had the peaceful moment to herself, she found Blair's presence somewhat comforting nonetheless.

Little children chose to wish upon the first star they would see at night, but Maka wished upon the moon that dominated everything else before it. Almost five months had passed, although it never seemed to get any easier for her as it hung there above the earth in all its proclamation; a constant reminder of what they had been through and the one they had to leave behind.

"One day," she whispered to herself as her fingers moved on their own accord through Blair's coat. "One day we'll find a way to bring you home, Crona."

Her thoughts wandered forward to that time when she would be reunited with her dear friend; the one who had saved her just as much, if not more, than she had saved them from the grips of madness. It wasn't a matter of 'if' to the Meister, only a matter of when. She had made a promise to Crona that one day they would see each other again, and never a day went by where she hoped and waited with as much patience as she could muster until fate would allow them that opportunity. She kept that promise close to her heart, never allowing it to fall to the wayside to be forgotten. For the time being, however, watching the moon every chance allotted to her was the closest way for her to keep to her word.

Looking down to the street below, she noticed how the people of Death City went about their business in blissful ignorance, completely unaware to just how close they had come to being all but consumed by Asura's Madness wavelength. Following the battle upon the moon, there had been memorials of those who had passed along with celebrations of their triumph. Newspapers, televisions, and radios filled the world with the mourning of Lord Death while simultaneously christening the arrival of his successor. Soul was now a Death Scythe, and she and the rest of Spartoi and the faculty were hailed as larger than life heroes, although she handled the attention with a particularly mature sense of modesty. The spotlight quickly faded from her life soon thereafter. She didn't really like the life of a celebrity that much anyways.

Crona, however, received nothing in the ways of gratitude. There were no stories or news segments dedicated to their sacrifice. No ticker tape parades or statues or paintings or even a small placard on a park bench. Almost nobody in the general populous knew that it was them still keeping the world from teetering off the edge of insanity. The only act of thanks that they ever received was the small, private vigil held in the Death Room in the aftermath of everything that had happened. Among its attendants were her and Soul, Kid and the Thompson Sisters, Black Star and Tsubaki, Professor Stein and the now Mrs. Stein, and Spirit. There were no parting offerings or words of remembrance indicating that the gathering was anything resembling a memorial service, except for Mrs. Marie bringing a vase of light pink roses and shedding a few tears. As far as they were concerned Crona was anything but gone from them. Very few words were said, although none really needed to be. The resolve of their collective souls said it best that they would find a way to retrieve their friend from the Black Blood prison of their own creation.

Rapping firmly at her bedroom door, the hinge cracked open with a small squeak as her train of melancholic thought was momentarily derailed.

"Oi, Maka, dinner's ready," Soul announced, poking his head inside her room.

"Alright, be right there," she replied, lifting Blair gingerly off of her lap and wiping off the black strands of fur she had left on her. Arching her back with a tiresome yawn, the feline shook the sleep from her body as she followed the girl into the kitchen, her nose twitching in delight at the delectable smells that came from the series of styrofoam boxes lining the table.

"Ugh, takeout again?" Maka groaned, sticking her tongue out at the spread in feigned repugnance. "Really Soul, couldn't you at least have gotten something other than Chinese? That's like the third time in two weeks. Would it kill you to get something at least a little bit healthy for a change?"

While normally in the past she was content to do the cooking for the two of them, their new positions as teaching assistants in their classes had a way of drastically cutting into the free time she would regularly set aside to prepare their meals. The fair majority of the time both of them stayed after class's end either to assist with Professor Craftlove in the N.O.T. course or Professor Stein in the E.A.T. course grading papers or preparing the lesson plans for the following day. By the time they managed to trudge their way back to their apartment, kick off their shoes, and get showered after their lengthy day, she seldom found the energy to cook dinner. As a consequence, their evenings had gradually deteriorated into microwave meals and takeout, much to her own annoyance.

"You never like what I pick anyways," the Death Scythe countered with a glutenous smirk, opening a box of greasy General Tao's and egg rolls. "Besides, it's like the most economical food there is. I can get an order for two for practically nothing and survive off of it for days."

"Yeah, well good luck surviving when all that deep fried junk gives you a heart attack," she warned jokingly, reluctantly grabbing a plate and glass from the cabinets and helping herself to the spread.

Hopping up onto the tabletop easily, Blair sniffed at each box's contents to see what they might contain.

"Did you get anything for Blair, nyah?" she wondered, pawing at the lids.

"Oi, fuzzball, get off the table! You're getting fleas in the food!" Soul chided as he overflowed his own plate with oriental goodness.

Vanishing in a puff of purple smoke, the cat transformed into her human form as she came face to face with the Death Scythe on her hands and knees, making the table full of their dinner creak slightly under the sudden shift in weight.

"Well that's rude," she huffed as she turned her nose up in rebuttal, her body position giving him a good glimpse down her plump bosom. "I _do not_ have fleas, thank you very much. For your information I take very good care of myself and this gorgeous body you love to ogle at. I even take three bubble baths a day."

"Three?!" Maka fumed, her jaw dropping in disbelief. "So that's what you've been doing all day long when we're gone?! Taking bubble baths?! Is that why our water bill's been through the roof lately?!"

Curling a painted nail under her lip, Blair seemed surprisingly nonchalant about her revelation. If two or three bubble baths a day was what it took to keep her skin and hair looking absolutely flawless, then her means were perfectly justified.

"Oh yeah, that reminds me!" she chimed bubbly, hopping off the table with cat-like grace. "I have something for you."

"What?" the Meister questioned warily as red flags and warnings went off in her head. It seemed that every time Blair showed up with a gift of any sorts it was either dead fish from the market or skimpy lingerie. She vividly remembered the day the scantily clad woman had shown up unexpectedly with a pink bag in hand after Black Star had made a quip about her flat chest. It was nothing new between friends and the crater she had left in the so-called assassin's head with her book had been more than sufficient to put her mind at ease. However, Blair had taken it upon herself to seek out a solution to the problem and with the best of intentions had gone out and bought her a lacy black bra that she said was guaranteed to push her up by two cup sizes. The image would forever be engrained into her psyche of her standing there holding the tasteless undergarment as Soul walked in through the door before collapsing in a pool of his own nosebleed.

Needless to say she was immediately filled with horrified embarrassment and the Maka Chops were swift and merciless. The bra was quickly stuffed in a box and shoved to the back of her closet, never to see the light of day again.

Reaching into her cleavage, Blair pulled out a roll of dollar bills bound together by a rubber band, placing it in her hand.

"Here," she smiled as innocent as could be. "That should be enough to cover everything."

Flabbergasted by the sheer size and heft of the wad of money, neither Soul nor Maka could believe their eyes. The roll itself was almost as big around as a soda can and contained a variety of large denomination bills.

"I don't want you to think that I'm just a lazy kitty who doesn't earn her keep," she added, her gesture suddenly making it very hard for the two humans to stay mad at her for any reason.

"Thank you?" was all Maka could bring herself to mutter, stupefied at the cold hard cash she now held. She didn't want to count it out in front of Blair, but it would easily make up for her mooching off of them and running up their water bill for that month and then some.

Soul, however, smelled something fishy, and it wasn't just the tuna sandwhich Blair had for lunch.

"Okay, what gives?" he interrogated. "Since when do you just walk around all day with fat stacks of cash in your tits? There's no way that you're making that much working at ChupaCabras."

Resting her hands on her hips, Blair's face turned into an offended pout as she harrumphed in contradiction.

"Where else am I going to keep my money? I can't carry a purse around when I'm my naturally kitty self, can I?" she snided. "I put it there so I always know where it is. And yes, as a matter of fact I did earn it all fair and square. That's my cut of the tip money from last week."

"T-That?! That's just the tip money?!" Maka stammered, still stunned by all the bills that filled her hand. "How?!"

"Business is booming!" Blair cheered happily with a slight squeal of delight. "Ever since the humans and the witches started being nicer to each other, Risa and Arisa were able to start convincing some of the girls in the Coven to come work for them part time. At first I didn't like it because I thought they would take away my regulars, but really they just brought in a whole bunch of new ones. The men in town are just going gaga!"

"Figures," the sandy blonde grumbled, knowing full well that somewhere in those regulars was her own lecherous father who was probably blowing through his tenure paychecks like it was going out of style.

"Oh, Blair, actually I have a question for you," she remembered, letting her vexation subside as she took her place at the table to join Soul in their dinner. "When you're at ChupaCabras have you happened to meet a woman who goes by the name Hex? Supposedly she's a friend of the owners."

Pursing her lips in thought, the cabaret worker took a moment to scour her memories before shaking her head.

"Nope, doesn't ring a bell. Sorry," she replied. "Why do you want to know?"

"Apparently Maka's dad's been trying to get back in the dating game and found himself a new squeeze," Soul answered casually before Maka was able to explain without making any connections.

"Soul," his partner growled under her breath, her voice laced with annoyance. Realizing his immediate mistake, he had completely forgotten about his half-hearted promise to Spirit to keep his little secret under wraps. Whatever, it's not like it was that big of a deal anyways.

"Haha…oops," he forced chuckled; little bits of food sticking to his sharpened teeth as he tried to lighten the situation with an innocent grin, but it looked like Maka wasn't having any of it. Blair didn't know that it was supposed to remain a secret and really didn't know what he was apologizing for, so why was she just sitting there glaring daggers at him?

Not quite sure why Maka all of a sudden looked so peeved at her lil' Scythey boy, Blair decided to offer up her assistance to their dilemma anyways.

"Actually that explains a lot," she said, hoping to help out however she could. "Death Scythe-sama hasn't been visiting nearly as often as he usually does. I was worried for a little while, but with all the new customers coming in I sort of lost track. So he's got a little someone special on the side now, huh? Well good for him."

"See, Maka, nobody cares," Soul pointed out smugly, stuffing his face with an egg roll.

"That's not the point and you know it," she countered, sticking a fork in his face from across the table. "A promise is still a promise."

"It slipped out. Sorry. Either way, how long do you really think he's going to keep it up? It's your dad. Not like everyone in Death City doesn't know who he is."

Although she had absolutely no idea what the two were arguing about, it was obvious even to Blair that it had something to do with Death Scythe-sama's new lady friend and some kind of promise. She supposed he didn't want people to know about her for some reason or another, explaining why he had been keeping a relatively low profile around ChupaCabras lately. Actually, come to think of it, she did vaguely recall something that she had overheard from one of the intoxicated customers in the booth next to hers a little while back. At one point in his drunken state he happened to mention something about seeing Death Scythe-sama walking around town with some lady, although at the time that didn't seem too far out of the ordinary; he was a notorious womanizer after all. It didn't really strike her as anything to remember until now.

"Is everything alright, Maka? Did you and this lady get into a fight or something?" she asked, thinking that maybe it could have been one of the new part-timers that she hadn't had the chance to meet yet.

"Just…just forget it," Maka mumbled as she took a delicate bite of her chicken knowing that Soul had already revealed too much to the gossiping feline. She was a woman of her word, and when she made a promise with someone she bound herself to it like a legal contract.

"Oh, don't be like that. The cat's already out of the bag anyways," Blair remarked cutely. "If she's giving you or Death Scythe-sama trouble then I'll be sure to track her down and give her a piece of my mind!"

"What?! No, it's nothing like that!" the moss-eyed Meister exclaimed, waving her hands in front of her in protest.

"Then what is it?" Blair pressed innocently, pushing her face uncomfortably close to Maka's, making her slide down her chair to put some distance between them.

"It's nothing," Maka blurted out. "Papa just seems really into her and said good things, but I've never met her. I wanted to see if anyone else knows what she's like."

Pulling her face away from the girl, Blair allowed her to sit back up as she looked at her with a quizzical face.

"Oh, is that all?" she stated matter-of-factly. She had been secretly hoping that there was a juicy piece of gossip to be found in all of this, but to no avail. "Well I do have my shift tomorrow. I can ask around if you want me to."

"No, you don't have to do that," Maka protested, forcing a cheerful face to play the whole thing off while on the inside she was kicking herself for having brought up the subject in the first place. She really should have known better than to trust Blair to keep any kind of secret, especially ones that pertained to relationships, although it was really Soul who had gone and spilled the beans.

"Fine, whatever you say," the cat waved dismissively. "I won't say a thing."

Flashing back into her four-legged form, she made her way towards the windowsill in the living room, giving the glass a push open with her paw.

"Since nobody bothered to get me anything to eat, I'm going out, nyah," she informed snarkily, raising her tail at them. "Leave the window open for me, would you? I won't be too late."

Hopping easily off the balcony, she allowed herself to fall headfirst towards the ground before using her magic to catch herself just a few feet from losing another soul. Levitating for a brief moment, she landed gently on all fours before sauntering off in search of the nice fish dealer man. He would usually have something kept in reserves just for her free of charge. Men were so easy to control. All she had to do was just flash a little skin and they became obedient little dogs she could puppet into doing whatever she wanted.

Speaking of men, from what little Maka and Soul revealed it certainly sounded like Death Scythe-sama might have found himself someone to at least be somewhat serious about. It definitely was a step in the right direction, as she had been encouraging him to get over his ex and move onto someone new. She had happily offered to be his match-maker in the past, but he had seemed more fixated on getting back on Maka's good side rather than finding a new woman in his life. She knew she had just said that she wouldn't say a word to anyone, but part of her just couldn't help but want to figure out who this Hex lady was.

"I think I'll ask around anyways, nyah. Somebody has to know," she concluded with a smile as she strutted down the street.

Back within their apartment, Soul was happy to see the feline go. It made for a less annoying evening as he dug back into his plate with a gluttonous appetite. Lying there in front of his partner's plate was the rolled up wad of cash that he couldn't seem to keep his eyes off of.

"This is so uncool," he griped as he finished his second helping. "That slutty cat's probably making as much money as you and me combined."

His complaint, however, went entirely unnoticed by the girl as she had taken the liberty of procuring the densest volume of literature that she owned from its proper bookshelf.

"Maka Chop!" she roared, slamming a deluxe collection of Shakespeare on the top of his skull, more than likely killing off at least half of his brain cells in the process.

"You idiot! Do you know what you just did?! Now she's going to go snooping around and she's going to figure everything out and then she's going to go tell all her gossiping friends at ChupaCabras and then they're going to spread it all over town and then the whole city's going to know!"

Panting heavily from her long-winded rant with steam rising from her ears, she glared at the albino as he twitched helplessly upon the floor beneath the table. With his ruby eyes rolled into the back of his head, she knew instinctively she had gone overboard with her chop, but she didn't care. This was his punishment for mentioning the connection between Hex and her Papa.

Coming too from his dazed stupor, Soul regained functionality in his grey matter before quickly wishing he hadn't.

"Argh! Freakin' hell, Maka! That really, really hurt!" he wailed in agony, rolling about the floor clutching the softball sized knot that was now protruding from his head.

"Well maybe now you'll use your head and think before you just blurt things out!" she snapped back, showing absolutely no pity whatsoever for the Death Scythe.

"Don't you think you're overreacting just a little bit?!" he countered angrily as he rubbed at the tender spot. "I didn't say anything about her being a witch! And Blair doesn't even know what she looks like! All she knows is that bogus name!"

"That doesn't matter! She's going to figure it out sooner or later! Then the whole city's going to find out and then…and then…!"

Trailing off mid-rant, she clenched her eyes shut as she tried her best not to let her imagination run too wild. She knew she was blowing a gasket over nothing, but it was the principle of the matter, wasn't it? Papa had trusted them to keep his date under tight lips, and they had just given the walking tabloid something to go off of. She should have just kept her mouth shut from the beginning, but she had let her own curiosity get the better of her.

Why? She kept asking herself this over and over in her mind. Why did she care about another one of her father's floozies? Why was she getting all bent out of shape over some stupid promise to her stupid father who had blown her off on their night out for some stupid bimbo she hadn't even met? Why should she really care if Blair went into the town square with a megaphone and a soap box and proclaimed that Spirit Albarn had gone out on a single date with a witch and not acted like a horny imbecile for once in his life?

"And then what?" she heard.

His voice was sincere despite the underlying grunt of pain as he awaited her answer. Putting the throbbing in his head aside for a moment to ask the question, Soul had picked himself off of the tile floor with a wincing groan. Opening her eyes, she saw him standing there with a look of concern about him, obviously sensing the distress going on within her wavelength. They had been partners for far too long and gone through too many adventures together for her to be able to disguise her emotions from him.

"And then…I don't know…," she huffed, burying her face in her hands to try to clear her mind of the turbulent storm of 'what if's'. "I just thought that if everyone knew she was a witch, people might… drive her away."

From the light that filtered in between her fingers, she could see and feel the proximity between them close by a step or two. Looking up from her hands as the remainder of her rage subsided, she just stared blankly into his chest, unable to bring herself to look him in the eyes. She knew instinctively that he was probably watching her with that equal mixture of concern and suave.

"Is that what all this is about?" he questioned casually. "You think if people found out your dad went on a date with a witch that they would be up in arms about it? I mean yeah, there's still a lot of people who don't like the idea of being around witches, but I really don't think they'd form an angry mob over it. Like Blair said, it looks like the guys in town actually enjoy having witches around."

"It's not just that, Soul," she tried to explain, turning away so she was now staring emptily at her half eaten food growing cold on the dinner table. "It's Papa and this whole dating thing. My mother isn't going to come back to him and he knows it. I know it too. He keeps saying he loves her, but I can tell he doesn't anymore; he just says that to make himself feel better. Really, Soul, I think he's forgotten how to actually love someone. I know that's a weird thing to say and he may be the last person on earth deserving of a real relationship after all the low-life things he's done, but even still…I think he needs this. I want to believe that if he could just remember what it's like to be with someone who isn't a complete moron for once that he might actually change for the better."

"And you think this Hex lady is that one?" he asked evenly, playing the Devil's advocate. "How do you know she's not a moron too?"

"I don't…but is it really too much to ask for that she isn't? Even if it doesn't work out, at least it would be a step in the right direction."

For a moment Soul found himself standing there watching as the emotions played off his partner's face in light of his question. Personally speaking, he had no stakes whatsoever and really couldn't care less about what the pervy senior Death Scythe did in his personal time, but Maka was still his first Meister and Spirit was part of her life. He wasn't a therapist, but at the very least he knew that it was uncool just to leave her to wallow in her worries, no matter how blown out of proportion they may have seemed. Stepping beside her, he placed a comforting hand upon her shoulder.

"You know, that's what makes you different than your dad," he consoled genuinely, offering up a toothy grin as he felt her wavelength relax beneath his touch. "Unlike him, you've actually grown up a lot since I've known you. I don't think very many people in this world would keep wanting for someone to be happy like that after all the things they've put them through."

Feeling the warmth of his hand leave her shoulder, Maka continued to gaze at nothing of interest upon the table with a thousand mile stare as she tried to make heads or tails of her emotions. She was swimming in frustration, apprehension, and solace all the same, not knowing which of the three had the dominant hold over her at the present time.

"So, what are we going to do with all of this?" Soul wondered aloud to steer the conversation away from her worries, taking the roll of bills that Blair had given them in hand. Tossing it up and down lightly in his palm, he still couldn't believe that the stupid cat was making as much as she was. "I say we go down to the all you can eat buffet and chow down until we burst."

And that seemed to do it for the troubled Meister. Tilting her head up to see him standing there with that relaxed posture and that doofus grin plastered on his face, she couldn't help but crack a smile herself. How was it that he always seemed to know exactly what to say to make her feel just a little bit better and pull her out of her episodes?

Reaching out, she took the money from his hand and casually placed it beside the little box on the kitchen counter where she kept their mail.

"First off, we're going to do what grownups do and pay our bills," she stated with a playful wag of her finger. "And second, as your punishment for opening your big mouth, you're going to help me pick out a dress for the Hallows Eve Ball. After that we might even have enough left over for me to go get my hair and nails done the day of the party."

"Oh, c'mon, Maka! Have a heart, would ya?!" he groaned with the upmost disbelief. "Isn't this coconut sticking out of my head punishment enough?!"

"Nope," she stated firmly, taking her place back at the dinner table smartly.

Dropping to his knees, Soul placed his hands together and looked upon her with the most pitiful expression he could think of. He even tried to conjure some pity tears to fill his eyes; anything to make her change her mind.

"I'm beggin' ya, anything but dress shopping!" he pleaded, leaving any and all dignity he had as a Death Scythe to the wayside. "You have no idea how uncool that is! Do you realize what kind of torture that is for a guy?!"

"Save it. You're not going to weasel your way out of this one," she reaffirmed, returning to her now cold platter of chicken.

Sighing heavily in discontent, Soul slumped his head in defeat, unable to stand the thought of having to spend an entire day going from store to store so that she could waste money on a dumb dress she was only going to wear once. Didn't she already have like a dozen perfectly good dresses stored away in her closet that she never wore anyways?

As far as he was concerned, this certainly fell under the pretense of cruel and unusual punishment.

* * *

Reverberating through the hollow stone corridors of the unholy cathedral within the Witches' Realm, the jumbled claps of shoes striking against the floor filled the air as they made their way towards the inner sanctuary. Coming upon the grand wooden door that led into the witches' meeting hall, they stopped in their advance, doing their best to maintain a veil of covertness about them.

"Let us go first," Kim instructed, opening the door just enough for her and Jacqueline to slip inside, leaving the remainder of her party behind in silent anticipation. A minute later they returned, informing them that it was alright for them to enter.

Stepping into the high-domed chamber where only a few months prior the entirety of the Coven had been calling for his head, Kid remained entirely at ease as he followed his liason's lead inwards. In the eerie, almost haunting silence of the night, he made out the distinctive cloaked figure with large safety pins running through the material.

"Good evening, Honorable Mabaa-sama," he greeted politely, bowing formally at the waist as he stood before her out of the upmost respect.

"Nyamu," the Grand Witch replied evenly, placing her right hand over her heart in return.

"I sincerely apologize for us having to meet like this, but I felt it would be best if we were able to have this conversation in person rather than through our envoys," he explained with a small smile.

"Nyamu," Mabaa nodded in confirmation before pointing a haggard hand behind him.

"Nyamu," she repeated, her tone a little more demanding this time around.

Glancing knowingly behind him, he knew that she was inquiring why there were more people than just him and his liaisons present before her.

"My apologies, Mabaa-sama. I hope it wasn't out of line for me to bring my assistants," he said as the Thompson Sisters looked about the sanctum in innocent awe and slight terror respectively. This wasn't the first time for the two of them to be in Mabaa-sama's presence, so they knew that they were expected to be on their best behavior, although this was their first trip into the Witches' Realm.

Shaking her head, the Grand Witch pointed her finger again to the other figure that stood within the faint glow of the candlelight, indicating that she had no issue with the sisters, Kim, or Jacqueline being there, but rather the one unknown to her.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Honorable Mabaa-sama," the courteous voice of the older gentleman came forth from the shadows, emerging with a polite bow. "I'm Professor Aleister Craftlove, one of the teachers at the DWMA and a scholar on witches and witchcraft. I've heard many good things about you and hope that you'll pardon my intrusion. I'll only be observing for academic purposes and nothing more."

Boring into the tattooed man with her single eye, Mabaa appeared suspicious of the newcomer; not quite sure of what to make of him. She couldn't quite pinpoint it, but there was something about him that made her uneasy despite his gentlemanly demeanor.

"Nyamu," she nodded warily, allowing the outsider to stay within the party. She supposed if he was trustworthy enough for the young Lord Death then it would be alright to permit it.

"Thank you, Mabaa-sama," Craftlove replied in gratitude.

Turning about as she levitated just off the floor, she motioned for the party to follow her as she led them from the chamber down an adjoining corridor. After some ways they came to a heavy wooden door with an unnecessarily large and complex series of bolts and locks as Mabaa gave a simple flick of her finger, causing the ironworks to move on their own accord. Swinging open with a heavy thud, she gave another wave of her hand as the inner room was illuminated in candlelight, revealing an ornate table of rounded marble and several chairs spaced around it. Motioning for the guests to enter, they followed one another silently into its depths and watched as Mabaa closed the door shut behind them and relocked the entry.

"Nyamu," she stated, gesturing for them to have a seat, taking her own place in a towering carved chair of an occult design depicting fluttering and perched crows, runes, skulls, and other images of witchcraft and lore. For Lord Death, the chair was a beautifully symmetrical piece, although he had not come with the intention of admiring the Grand Witch's furnishings.

"Nyamu, nyamu," she began after the Shibusen entourage had taken their own places, placing her hand out in front of her as though as asking of an offering.

Although he had a faint idea of what she was saying, Kid awaited the accurate translation as always, not wanting to misinterpret her intended words.

"Grandmother Witch-sama wishes to know why you called for this meeting and why you wanted it to be in secret," Kim conveyed. "Although she has no issue with meeting like this, she doesn't like it when she doesn't know the reason behind it."

Nodding in acknowledgement, the Grim Reaper rested his hands beneath his chin as his demeanor took on a far more serious aura.

"Again, I apologize for leaving you in the dark, Mabaa-sama, but I felt it would be best that what we're about to discuss be kept to as small of a circle of confidants as possible. I had no intention of offending you by this," the shinigami stated.

"Nyamu, nyamu," she replied. "Nyamu."

"Grandmother Witch-sama says she takes no offense, but now she's morbidly curious about what it is you want to talk about," Kim mediated. "If it requires this level of secrecy it must be something of importance."

"It is of importance, but not in any immediate way. It's more of, as you put it, a morbid curiosity that I have," Kid remarked, watching the Grand Witch with golden eyes. "For both of our sakes I won't beat around the bush anymore and cut right to it. Following the death of Medusa Gorgon at the hands of the Demon Swordsman Crona, the DWMA was able to reinvestigate Medusa's laboratory and gather what remained of her research. Much of what we learned about her went into our official report following the battle on the moon, but there were still many questions left unanswered. Over the past few months I've been reading through her research in hopes of coming to a clear picture of exactly what Medusa's final endgame had been, but I was never able to come to a definitive conclusion due to many of the sections being written in runes. When Kim and the witch Eruka Frog tried to assist me in their translation they discovered that Medusa had actually sealed parts of her soul away within her own research using a Soul Protect, which we promptly destroyed. There's no doubt about it to me that even in death that woman is still very cunning and dangerous."

"Nyamu?" Mabaa questioned in surprise, turning to Kim for confirmation.

"It's true, Grandmother Witch-sama," the pinkette replied. "We were able to break the Soul Protect and found that she had left some of her snakes bound inside. She also used a Variable Fluctuation spell on her notes to disguise what she had actually been writing. While we've determined that what she allowed the notes to say weren't false pieces of intelligence, we were also able to break the Fluctuation spell and see what Medusa was hiding underneath that."

Her interest now thoroughly peaked, Mabaa was especially curious, but equally cautious about where all this information was going.

"Nyamu, nyamu, nyamu," she wondered aloud.

"Yes, Grandmother Witch-sama," Kim replied. "Through the combined efforts of Eruka, the Werewolf Free, and myself, we were able to break the spells guarding everything."

"Nyamu," she hummed, seemingly impressed that younger witches were able to break such a complicated spell by themselves, albeit the power of her stolen eye had provided much of the necessary magic.

Allowing her surprise to subside, the Grand Witch's blackened face turned serious once more as she looked upon Lord Death.

"Nyamu," she stated in an almost grave and demanding tone.

"Grandmother Witch-sama wants to know what exactly it was that we found in Medusa's research after the spells were broken," Kim relayed.

Sitting about the table, the remaining six pairs of eyes now focused in intrigue upon Lord Death in anticipation of what his answer could be; although it was the Tanuki Witch who had discovered the answer in the first place.

"It was a children's story," Kid stated bluntly, his tone doing away with anything innocent that might have been associated with such an answer. "Inside the first several pages of her diary Medusa had copied a work of witches' folklore that I'm told is for children. Needless to say we were taken by surprise by it being there, but sometimes it's easy to forget that even witches were once little as well. As I read through more of her diary I began to notice a rather disturbing pattern emerging from the mind of a once young Medusa Gorgon. She began to develop an obsession for a character in this story and secretly wanted to emulate her. However, it seemed that at some point something happened to Medusa to cause her to have a change of heart and her obsession shifted to devising a plan to resurrect Asura instead. I don't wish to insult your intelligence, but I believe that you know what story and what particular character I'm referring to. That's the reason why I asked for this meeting tonight; to separate fact from fiction."

Across the circular slab of marble from the Reaper, the Grand Witch watched the young shinigami with an even face of equal parts interest, knowing, and uncertainty, saying nothing in the light of the recent revelations about the Snake Witch.

"Mabaa-sama," Lord Death addressed calmly, yet firmly. "What can you tell us about the witch known as Cradle? The real one."

* * *

**To be continued...**


	16. A Night For Faces Old and New: Part I

Chapter 16: A Night for Faces Old and New: Part I: 'Tis but the Truth in Masquerade?

Riding high along the steady cooling winds that filtered in off the Mediterranean Sea, the faintest shadow of a silhouetted figure could be seen against the laughing midday sun passing along the coastal villas below. Streaking by at a remarkable, but steady pace, rustic towns painted against rolling hills of orange and green passed beneath the woman's feet as her viridian hair fluttered behind her. Taking in the scenic views of the white-faced cliffs and the crystal clear waters, she found it curious how centuries ago humans would never have even set foot near such a picturesque place, too afraid of the monsters that once made their homes there. Musing on the thought, she remembered how the island chains of Greece were once famous for their legendary and powerful monsters, only to be all but obliterated by the first Lord Death and the arrival of that school of his. From there it seemed as though the humans began their slow and steady spread throughout the lands, waging war against anything that went against the order of the Grim Reaper.

It was an odd feeling to say the least, having watched the dramatic changes to the world that had happened in her lifetime as well as the ones she was currently witnessing.

Leaning forward upon the wooden handle of her broom, she watched as the dotted islands became more refined as she descended to a cruising altitude several hundred feet over the waters that crashed against the jagged, rocky shores. From off in the distance she could see the outline of her destination quickly approaching; a towering, solitary slab of rock with a massive, twisting olive tree growing from the top of it. Cracking the stone face of the bare cliff walls with its flowing network of sunken roots, the ancient arbor was gargantuan enough in stature to uphold a sizable structure from its branches in the ways of a hive-like home. Spiraling with bands of white and orange from the stones it had been created from, the hanging residence boasted everything that a comfortable and scenic hideaway should, including honeycombed windows, a surrounding porch, and even a chimney.

Coming to a halt as she flared the tail end of her broom, the witch landed easily upon the front stoop of the residence and took a moment to straighten her clothing from the trip. Doing away with the broom with the snap of her fingers, she approached the circular doorway of the hive before giving a few firm knocks on the hardened wood. There was a brief moment of conversing voices behind the barrier before the locks were undone and the door swung open in inquiry.

"Good afternoon, Madam Brize," a younger man greeted kindly with a faint smile, stepping out of the way to allow his guest entrance. Slightly under six foot in height and built on the leaner side, the host appeared to be in his early twenties with a head of light brown hair that was cut into several short spikes in even rows down his scalp. Dressed plainly in a black short-sleeved shirt and long brown pants, he kept a light grey scarf wrapped around his neck despite the rather pleasant temperature inside the house.

"Hello, Orobo. I hope you've been doing well," she replied politely to the man as she stepped through the threshold and into the humble abode, the interior of which was furnished like an indoor forest with numerous plants sitting in pots or dangling from hangers in the ceiling. Oil paintings and small statues of insects of every kind, most notably flies, bees, hornets, and wasps made up the décor along with the wicker furniture. Filtering in through the many hexagonal windows, the openings allowed much of the natural light outside to fill the rooms with its warmth.

"Yes, Madam, thank you for asking. Won't you please come have a seat? I'll fetch the Lady."

"No need, Orobo," a third, feminine voice stated lightly as she descended the tight spiral staircase located in the center of the room. Stepping gingerly down the steps with bare feet, the hem of a black and yellow-orange striped dress came into view as she came to greet her guest.

"Well this is a surprise, Mother," the amber eyed witch remarked politely, but in no ways with any depth of love or tenderness that one would expect to be found between parent and child. The relationship between the two within the world of the witches was one of mutual respect at best, as the act of childbearing was in and of itself seen as only a necessity for the continuation of their race and nothing more. Witches who chose to become mothers reproduced simply for the sole reason that it was their duty to continue their heritage, although that isn't to say that they lacked any trace of affection for their offspring. Many of them did legitimately feel a sense of caring for them, although there was a fair amount of truth and reasoning behind the old saying "colder than a witch's tit".

"I figured it's been a while since I've come to visit," the cyan witch replied simply to her daughter as the two made their way into the quaint sun room near the rear of the home where they settled themselves into two wicker seats with a small table between them. "You seem to be doing quite well for yourself. And Orobo is certainly turning into a handsome thing."

"That's the only reason I keep him around," the orange and black witch smiled humorously, raising her voice up so that Orobo could hear her comment.

Returning with a kettle of a thick green tea laced with spices and flower pedals alongside a dish of golden honey, the man set the two down on the table before them with a faintly lopsided smirk.

"Are there really no other redeeming qualities about me other than my body?" he questioned in jest, pouring out two cups for the ladies and placing them on flower-shaped saucers.

"Well I suppose you do make a delicious cup of tea," she replied, taking her own cup of the moss green brew and adding a touch of the honey to it before sipping smoothly.

"Only the best for the Lady Brize," Orobo stated.

Finished with his duties as host, the two witches watched as the young man quietly excused himself before retreating up the spiral staircase to the second floor, leaving the women to discuss matters amongst themselves.

"So, Mother, I didn't see you at the last Mass," the Lady of the house began simply to her guest, a certain connotation of insinuation in her voice. "It normally isn't like you to miss a meeting. Is everything alright in your part of the world?"

"I just had something unexpected come up is all," the elder witch stated casually, trying her best not to think too much on the subtle implication that her daughter was making. "Did I miss anything important at the Mass?"

"Only the announcement that Mabaa-sama has decided to allow younger witches to attend the Grim Reaper's school," she said bluntly, disguising her slight irritation that a witch would miss Mass for any reason. "She believes that it will be a good way for us to strengthen our relations with Shibusen. You should have seen the way that riled everyone up. Kaiyo looked like she was on the verge of having an ulcer and the elder witches seemed liked they were about to riot."

"That's not surprising. Since when does Kaiyo not look like she's about to murder everyone?" Madam Brize smiled brightly, trying to melt the subtle tension in the atmosphere. "As far as the decision for the younger witches, its Mabaa-sama's to make. If that's what's going to happen we really can't argue with it."

"Funny, that's almost exactly what Kaiyo said. You don't find it even a little bit infuriating that after centuries of being hunted by the Reaper that we're now all of a sudden trying to let bygones be bygones? I know this is a new Lord Death we're dealing with now, but frankly I can't bring myself to agree with many of these brash decisions that Mabaa-sama is making for the Coven."

"Well it's not your job to make decisions for the Coven, Sibylla. That position belongs to Mabaa-sama. All you need to concern yourself with is your job as a member of the Coven and following the laws passed down by the Grand Witch."

"I may be a member of the Coven, Mother, and a loyal one at that, but it appears many of our sisters have forgotten the difference between loyalty and blind servitude," Sibylla countered calmly, making her position on the issue known. "You can't honestly sit there and tell me that by allying ourselves with Shibusen that we aren't perverting our entire race and everything that we've ever stood for. Look at what's already starting to happen ever since this treaty was set in motion. Our sisters are whoring themselves out to the men at that club run by Tabatha and Taruho, humans are attending sacred Masses in larger numbers, and now witches are going to actually become part of the very thing that we have spent all this time fighting against. It makes me fear for the future of our race."

Setting her saucer down in concern, Madam Brize eyed her daughter with a hint of uncertainty, not in the way a worried parent might, but in the sense that she could pick up on the subtle remarks lining Sibylla's voice.

"Now, now, I think you're blowing things a little out of proportion," she reasoned as best as she could, maintaining a slightly cheerful face. "Those girls that go to that club are only a very small percent and their promiscuity is probably nothing new, and I can count on one hand the number of humans at any Mass. As for Mabaa-sama allowing witches to attend Shibusen, I honestly see no downside to it given the times we're in. There hasn't been a single witch confronted by the Reaper's students since the alliance went into place and he has given his word that there won't be anymore. If something were to happen where a witch was harmed I'm sure Mabaa-sama would take a firm stance against it. So while I can see where you're coming from, I really don't think there's anything to worry about. The Coven is still strong and this alliance isn't going to change that."

Finishing her own brew, Sibylla's expression became entirely neutral as she listened to her mother's rebuttal. Setting the empty cup and saucer down with a faint clink, she crossed her long legs as she pondered the counter-argument for a brief moment before speaking.

"I suppose you're right. Maybe I am worrying too much, but can you really blame me?" she admitted as her lips curled into wry smile. "However, this change of heart for Shibusen that you've had…I can't help but wonder what brought it about. You seem awfully convinced that the Reaper and his school are going to stay true to their word."

"I wouldn't say it's a change of heart," the turquoise witch responded in slight defense. "It's just that for the first time in both of our lives we have an opportunity to live in peace for a change instead of having to worry about being hunted down for our souls. If we can live without fear then I really see no problem with it."

"So you think this new Reaper and his new sense of order are trustworthy enough to wager the safety of the Coven on?" Sibylla questioned. "From their perspective they already got what they needed when Mabaa-sama agreed to help them with the Kishin. And now that the Kishin has been imprisoned by that spawn of Medusa they really have no further use for us. It would be fairly simple for them to throw this treaty away and go back to their old ways."

"Why on earth would they go back on the treaty when it's obvious that they're trying to make this alliance work?" Madam Brize argued with a slight scoff of disbelief. "They've lost just as many on their side over the centuries as we have on ours, but they're trying to overlook the past and make a change, and we should as well. There may still be a lot of resentment between witches and Shibusen, but the Reaper seems genuine enough that he wants to end this fighting as much as we do. I really don't think they're as bad as we try to make them out to be."

Positioned comfortably in her wicker seat with a wry smile on her face, Sibylla took a moment for her mother's words to sink in as she contemplated their argument. On the inside she found it a tad bit ironic that two witches who straddled the generational gap of younger and older were completely backwards in their convictions for and against the treaty, although she really wished that weren't the case. In reality they both wanted the exact same thing; to live in a world where witches could be free from fear of the Reaper and his school. Their ideal visions of the two and how to get there, however, were worlds apart.

"The way you talk about Shibusen and the humans not being as bad as we think they are, it makes it sound like you actually have sympathy for them now," she pointed out slyly as she rested her hand on her cheek. "It's funny to hear it coming from the Damsel Dragon."

For the first time since their conversation began, Sibylla could see the polite front of sophistication that her mother had been wearing begin to wane. Those sapphire irises of hers sharpened for a brief second in her attempt to fight back a disapproving scowl as she tensed at the mention of the moniker. Saying nothing as she closed her eyes, Madam Brize took her time to quietly compose herself and bring her cheerful face back to the surface.

"Now, Sibylla, you know I haven't used that name in well over three centuries," she forced politely, refilling her cup with tea from the kettle. "You make it sound like that was just yesterday. My views of the world have changed a lot since then. And if it is sympathy then so be it. It doesn't take away from my love of being a witch."

"You make a good point there. I do apologize, Mother, I didn't mean to question your devotion to the Coven," Sibylla admitted with a hint of remorse. "Well in that case will you be attending the Hallow Black Mass tonight?"

"As always. I do have some things to take care of back home first, so I may be a little late getting there, but I will be there."

"Well that's good. We need every witch that we can to be there because I'm a little worried that our attendance might be a little bit lower this year. It appears that in his infinite wisdom the shinigami has decided that tonight of all nights would be the perfect opportunity to throw a little get-together at his school. I heard through the grapevine that some of the witches might actually be skipping out on the Black Mass to go there instead."

"That's a shame. They should know better than to miss Black Mass," Madam Brize chided, knowing how important the gathering was for the Coven. "Well if anyone does skip out I'm sure Kaiyo will be the first to single them out and deal with their punishment accordingly."

Letting out a small chuckle at the thought, Sibylla knew all too well how seriously Kaiyo took a witch's participation in the Hallow Black Mass, and consequently how volatile she would get if she knew that some of the younger witches were out partying at Shibusen rather than fulfilling their duties.

"She'll probably sentence them to death ten thousand times over for missing Black Mass and then tack on another hundred thousand just because she can," she exaggerated lightly, although given the Witch Judge's reputation she wouldn't put such an extreme sentence out of the realms of possibility. Stranger things had happened in the five centuries she had been alive after all.

"I wouldn't put it past her," her mother remarked with an equally light chuckle.

Falling into an uncertain silence, parent and child had both finished off their respective cups of tea, allowing themselves to bask in the uneasy tension that still lingered in the otherwise naturally tranquil interior. Sitting with one leg crossed over the other, Sibylla leaned comfortably against the cushion of her seat, observing her guest with scrutinizing amber irises and a faint, knowing grin.

"Something on your mind?" the elder Brize inquired, wary of the look she was receiving. "You look like you've had something to say ever since I walked through the door."

"Hmm?" Sibylla hummed in confusion with a shake of her head, having been pulled out of whatever random thought she was having beforehand. "Oh, no, it's nothing. My mind's just a little preoccupied at the moment. You caught me in the middle of preparing for the gathering tonight."

"Well I suppose I have imposed on you long enough. I should leave you and Orobo to get ready."

"Nonsense, Mother," the half-hearted protest came forth. "I can wait for a little while longer. I'm sure Orobo is already taking care of everything that needs to be taken care of."

"No, no, I only wanted to say a quick hello before I headed home," Madam Brize insisted as she rose from her seat, straightening her honeycombed dress down her legs as she did so. "In any case, I'm sure that I'll be seeing you at Black Mass tonight. We can keep on catching up afterwards if you want to."

"We'll see what happens," Sibylla nodded in understanding, leaving the resumption of their conversation entirely open ended.

Making her way towards the front door with a casual grace, she called up the spiral staircase at the center of the residence to the third occupant of the household, announcing her departure. Hearing a slight rustle of parchments and the creaking of the wooden floorboards as the man shuffled about on the second story, he appeared collected and unrushed as he joined the two Brizes at the entryway.

"It was a pleasure having you, Madam Brize, if only for a little while," Orobo spoke respectfully as the turquoise witch made her preparations to leave.

"It's always good to see you too, Orobo. I'm sorry we didn't get to talk, but I'll be sure to stay longer whenever I drop by next time," she apologized sincerely. "Your tea is delicious by the way."

"Thank you, Madam."

Stepping back out through the circular doorway into the midday sun, she gave a quick snap of her fingers, prompting her broomstick to materialize from out of thin air, hovering with a slight bounce.

"If by some chance I don't end up seeing either of you two tonight then this is until next time," she bid farewell politely. Mounting her ride without any other goodbyes, she kicked off from the porch and rose swiftly like a feather on the wind. Riding high into the currents, she set off for her own home, silently grateful to be free of the awkwardness that her daughter put between them.

Watching as the older witch took off in far more of a rush than she had meant to indicate, Sibylla followed the fleeting silhouette until it was but an indistinguishable spot against the sky, her expression entirely flat as the Mediterranean winds lapped at her skin.

"That went…well?" Orobo remarked with a sense of uncertainty, his tone returning to its usual casualness as he too followed the speck as it disappeared from sight.

"Oh, I think it went just a little bit better than well," Sibylla replied simply, her lips curling at the information the seemingly innocent debate had given her.

Cupping the palms of her hands together, she held them close to her mouth as she began to mutter to herself.

"Sni, sni, bee…sly, fly, fly…sni, sni, bee…sly, fly, fly," she incanted. Opening her hands, she revealed several black and orange flies the size of her thumb that had materialized from her magic, each one with a prominent barbed stinger jutting out of its thorax.

"Follow her, but keep your distance. Whatever you do, don't let her see you," she instructed to her familiars, releasing them to the winds in a buzzing flurry. Spreading their iridescent wings, the insects took a moment to gain their bearing before they were off to do their Lady's bidding.

* * *

In the depths of the Witches' Realm, at the very stroke of midnight on the last day of the month of October, witches from all over came together in a dark and timeless ceremony known as the Hallow Black Mass. It was rumored that evil and diabolical traditions such as animal sacrifice, prayers to the underworld, and blasphemous chants against the order of the Grim Reaper were said to take place, although nobody save for witches truly knew what transpired behind their secretive walls. However, it was known that their coming together in their sacrilegious bond was both a figurative and literal rejuvenation of their magical ties, and thus a time that the forces of the DWMA were most on edge. Meisters and Weapons around the globe were typically on high alert if something were to become of the gathering, although the atmosphere surrounding Death City this time around was entirely different than in years past.

Leaving no detail overlooked, the interior and exterior of the Academy had been painstakingly outfitted in festive gothic décor, ranging from black, red, and orange balloons and streamers to the myriad of pumpkins floating about filled to the brim with different foods and punches. With the help of some magic from Blair and with the direction of the Thompson Sisters, a night that in years past meant double duty for the students and faculty now radiated an aura of fun and relaxation. While Kid had been skeptical at first of throwing a party at the Academy considering the last party had ended in the resurrection of Asura, Liz and Patty were firmly insistent that it would be a good way for students to unwind after their first rounds of tests as well as allowing him to have a night where he wasn't cooped up in his study working himself to death on his research. Seeing as how the sisters made compelling arguments in favor of the gala, Kid caved in and decided to allow it on the condition that all the decorations be symmetrical and that at least a few members of the DWMA's secret forces be kept at the ready in case anything were to happen. Despite how much he told himself there was nothing to worry about, with the responsibility of the world's safety on his shoulders he preferred to air on the side of caution.

Night had just begun to fall as Lord Death and the Thompson Sisters stood anxiously at the doors to the Academy in full formal attire in anticipation of their guests, watching as the first few attendants made their way up the steep stone steps. As Liz had also insisted the ball be a masquerade, Kid now donned his finest white and black tuxedo, his flowing black cloak, and his Death Skull mask that he usually did without on a day-to-day basis. On either side of him the girls had opted out of their cowgirl getups, choosing something a little more feminine instead in the ways of matching black ball gowns and sparkling white masques with feathers that covered the top halves of their faces.

Among the first to arrive were Soul and Maka, seeing as how the Scythe Meister had been overwhelmingly adamant about them being punctual to the occasion. Dressed in his standard Black Room suit, the Death Scythe wore a plain black half-face masque as he trudged unenthusiastically forward with hands tucked haphazardly into his pockets. Beside him, Maka now shined brightly in a flamboyant plum colored gown with matching gloves and gold ruffled trim. With the extra money she had gotten from Blair she went against her own advice on being monetarily responsible and had gone all out on herself for a change, purchasing not only the dress and gloves, but also new heels and a trip to the salon. Topping the whole thing off with a glimmering gold masque that she held in place with a stick, she absolutely radiated in comparison to the Death Scythe.

"Soul. Maka. Glad you could make it," Kid greeted warmly as they approached, his voice muffled slightly from behind his mask.

"Oooh! Maka, you're so pretty!" Patty sang giddily with an innocent awe. "You look like a princess!"

Blushing lightly as she lowered her masque at the compliments, Maka could only smile with a light laugh, unsure of how to really answer such flattery.

"Please, Patty, don't get her started on that princess stuff. It was hard enough convincing her not to fly here," Soul droned. He already had to deal with the whole notion of her thinking she was an angel because she had a Grigori soul; he didn't need her thinking she was a princess on top of that.

"Well it would have been faster than walking," Maka harrumphed in defense.

"Don't give me that," he countered smoothly with a smug grin. "You just wanted to make some big dramatic entrance flying over the Academy so everyone could see how cool you were. I think you might have picked up a bit of Black Star's ego."

His words swiftly earned him an unamused grumble and a prompt bop on the head from the sandy blonde's fist. Although she didn't leave any knots like her books would, he unconsciously rubbed the spot anyways, muttering something along the lines of how just because he could fly didn't mean that he was her personal carriage.

"Princess or not, you're going to turn some heads with that getup, girl," Liz added in approval as she inspected the outfit.

"What? Do you think it's too risqué?" Maka questioned worriedly with a quick twirl around, hoping that the dress wasn't too revealing. It shouldn't have been. It barely showed any skin at all except for around her collar and shoulders, and compared to the spaghetti straps that Liz was wearing hers was far more conservative.

"No, it's fine. Don't worry about it. Just trust me on this one," the older Thompson assured, but in all actuality all it did was make the Albarn even more self-conscious.

Breaking off from the girls as they went gaga over Maka's outfit, Soul moved over to make conversation with his new Meister, letting out a faint groan of despair as he joined his fellow male.

"Bad day?" Kid asked, his golden eyes barely peeking out from behind the darkened holes in his Death Skull.

"No offense, Kid, but you have no idea how bad I really don't want to be here," Soul replied honestly with hands in his pockets. "Parties aren't really my thing, and the fact that I have to wear this stupid thing just makes it even more uncool. If you have any mercy in you, I'm asking you to please Reaper Chop me into a coma so I don't have to go through with this."

Silently hoping for some words of sympathy to his plight, instead he only got a few friendly pats on the back in consolation.

"Well, try to keep your chin up anyways. You're a Death Scythe now," were all the uplifting words the shinigami had to offer.

Drooping his head in disappointment, another disgruntled moan escaped him as he came to the undeniable conclusion that for the next six hours he was doomed to wear this stupid costume and make boring small talk with people he really didn't feel like talking to. It wasn't that he didn't like seeing people from the Academy or hanging out with friends, but fancy parties just had a way of bringing out the depressed side of him. Perhaps it stemmed from his background as an Evans, but they filled him with loathe and made him wish he could just sink into the shadows and disappear, or at the very least find some solitary hallway or balcony that would allow him reprieve.

"If it'll make you feel any better there's food and drinks inside," Kid offered, making it known to Soul that he didn't have to wait around for everyone to be done for him to go mingle about. It was going to be a while before he and the Thompsons would be done greeting their arrivals anyways.

"Thanks, but I think Maka wanted to wait around until Tsubaki and Black Star showed up."

"Well you are still early. I'm sure they won't be far behind," Kid reasoned casually.

"Yeah, I'm sure Black Star's just waiting for the right moment to make his grand entrance," Soul chuckled.

From their vantage point atop the Academy, the Grim Reaper and Death Scythe both spied a faint pillar of rising dust coming out from over the city, each of the plumes almost equally spaced and rapidly closing in closer towards the Academy. Not soon thereafter an all too distinctive battle cry came riding on the winds, announcing the arrival of the not-so-silent bushin.

"Yahoo!"

"I really hate it when I'm right sometimes," Soul deadpanned flatly.

Rising high into the stars above, the egotist was using Tsubaki in her Shadow Arms form like an infinitely long scarf to support him midair as the two bounded with spring-like steps towards the Academy. Leaving potholes in the roads and even crashing through a few rooftops in the process, his jubilant announcement filled the air as the slender black length came crashing down into the plaza, landing uncomfortably close to the groups of costumed students that were beginning to file in a steadily growing mass. Propelling himself atop the tallest spire of the Academy, the giant candles that illuminated the structure bathed him in the limelight he craved.

"Fear not everyone, the life of the party has arrived! The one and only Black Star is here to kick everything into high gear!" he boasted, striking a dramatic pose.

Taking his sweet time to bask in his own glory, only an uncomfortable silence and befuddled stares followed his entrance from his audience below.

"_Umm…Black Star? Maybe we should just go say hi to everyone," _Tsubaki insisted with a kind, but mildly embarrassed tone.

"You're right, Tsubaki! I shouldn't keep my adoring fans waiting now, should I?!" he enthusiastically agreed.

Lowering her Meister down from his perch, Tsubaki retracted her Shadow Arms back towards ground level before flashing back into her human form. Dressed in a metallic grey gown that flared out slightly at her hips, an equally lustrous shawl of the same color was wrapped around her elbows while a black lace masque covered her eyes. With her lengthy hair done up and a pair of nice diamond earrings to add a bit of flair, she shone far more than her haphazardly dressed Meister beside her.

"Okay, seriously, did I miss a memo or something?" Liz questioned flatly, pointing a tediously manicured nail at both Maka and Tsubaki. "If I had known we were going for jaw-dropping, drop dead gorgeous tonight I would have liked a heads up. I'm seriously feeling way underdressed now."

"No, you look great!" Tsubaki chimed meekly with a faint blush arising around her cheeks. "You're way more dressed up than Black Star is."

"Yeah, he doesn't even have a costume," Maka observed accusingly, resting her hands on her hips in disapproval.

"Why would a big star like me want to hide his greatness with a costume?!" Black Star rebutted with a narcissistic laugh.

"Because that's the whole point of a masquerade, Black Star! It's supposed to be for fun!" Tsubaki chastised with a faint whine, knowing deep down that all she was doing was beating a dead horse. Try as she might, the assassin wouldn't cave into her logic, thoroughly steadfast in his convictions not to do anything that might hinder his ability to stand apart from the crowd.

"Well I don't see what's so fun about wearing some lame mask. Just look at how stupid Soul looks," the teal-haired man pointed out offhandedly with his thumb over his shoulder.

"And there goes the rest of my self esteem for the night," the albino droned to himself, now seriously wishing he was any place in the world but the overbearingly soul-sucking gala.

Feeling a tug at his sleeve that brought him out of his self-deprecation, he saw that Maka had wrapped a gloved hand around his arm, resting her fingers upon the crook of his elbow in a formal escort. Smiling that soft, caring smile of hers, she didn't say anything, but gave him a gentle nudge towards the door. Picking up on the hint, his mood brightened just a little bit knowing that she would be there to keep him company throughout the night. Leading the way through the entrance with his Meister on his arm, the two of them left their friends standing in the plaza scratching their heads, wondering what the heck was going on.

Even if he knew the gesture was only platonic in nature, it was still fun for Soul to know just how much the simple act screwed with everyone's minds. For all the heck she gave him every now and then, Maka could be pretty cool like that sometimes.

* * *

As the night progressed and the Hallows Eve Ball began to hit its stride, students and faculty filled the grand ballroom and several side rooms that had been appointed for the gala with the roars of jubilant laughter and merry conversation. Mingling about amongst friends, admiring one another's costumes, or dancing around to the live band that filled the grand ballroom with musical varieties ranging from up-tempo jazz to swing ska to classic rock 'n' roll, it appeared that the party was going off without a single hitch.

Set up against a far wall beneath the windows was a line of fold-out chairs for those who wished to sit and eat or take a breather from the festivities. Even though she wasn't at all hungry and she hadn't danced a single step, Kiana sat off and away from the other students, content to observe them from a distance for the time being. Dressed in a mint green backless gown that helped accentuate her slight curves and highlight her dark skin, she had opted to keep her knee high sandals as well as her black leather arm wrappings. Her distinctive ulak-shaped pigtails had also stayed, but her jet black dreadlocks had been done up into a knot atop her head, the loose ends radiated out from the point like a palm tree.

From out of the crowd in front of her she spied the black fedora belonging to her Meister bobbing and weaving through the masses in her direction, no doubt returning with the refreshments she had set out to procure. Sure enough, not a few seconds later Victoria emerged in all her tomboyish glory with drinks in hand, dressed in pressed black slacks, high top sneakers, and a ruffled white shirt covered by a black vest. Unlike her Weapon, who had chosen a gold half-faced masque to accent her green, Victoria went an entirely different route with a grinning, masculine full-faced white masque with blacked out eyes and a curling mustache.

Sitting down beside her partner, the Aussie lifted the cover off her face with a slight pant, revealing a few beads of sweat beginning to trickle down her forehead.

"Oi, it's getting hot in here, Kiki," she griped light-heartedly, enjoying the sensation of the cooling breeze from the cracked windows above lapping at her skin. Handing one of the cups of punch to Kiana, she wiped the sweat from her forehead and took a refreshing sip to quench her parchedness.

"Havin' fun?" the Demon Ulaks asked nonchalantly, taking a sip of her own.

"Oh yeah, I'm havin' a blast," Victoria replied, glad to have an opportunity to get away from studying for exams and just let loose. "So you gonna go shake your arse or are you gonna just sit here being a knocker all night long?"

"I'll dance when I'm ready," Kiana stated casually, making it known that she was enjoying her people watching.

"Oh, c'mon, Kiki, what's there to wait for?! It's a party!" the Meister cheered, giving her Weapon a playful nudge in the shoulder. "Have a lil' easy come, easy go! Live it up a lil'! Go make some bad decisions!"

"You're all the bad decisions I can stand at one time, Vicky," the Weapon retorted sarcastically without a second thought.

"Aww, but just remember, Kiki, that _you_ chose _me _to be your Meister," Victoria laughed teasingly, making a move to lean up against her snarky partner in mocking affection. "So for better or worse, you're stuck with me and all my bad decisions."

Rolling her golden hazel eyes behind her masque as the strawberry-blonde cuddled up against her in public, all the girl could do was crack a little smile.

"Ag, buggar me, right?" Kiana remarked at the prospect.

Feeling the tomboy slide off of her, the two of them sat beneath the cool breeze fluttering in through the windows, content for the time being to watch their fellow students have their fun. Having already danced her fill enough at least for a little while, Victoria took a split second every once in a while to glance over at her partner. She had known Kiana long enough to know that she wasn't an entire stiff and did legitimately enjoy having fun, but there was certain method to her ways that made it difficult for her to have it sometimes. It showed itself more when they were out on missions, but the dark-skinned girl was incredibly insistent on being as efficient as possible in almost every facet of her life. Almost everything that she did had a rhyme or a reason for it, and she hated wasted effort. In the girl's mind there always had to be a purpose and a rock solid plan for her to get from Point A to Point B, whether that was rising out of bed and starting her morning routine or hunting down kishin eggs. She despised wasted effort almost as much as she despised losing; she could be overwhelmingly competitive sometimes.

That's why having Victoria as a partner drove the South African absolutely batty at times, but in the end it was to both of their benefits. The Australian's laid back motto of "easy come, easy go" was reflected in how she walked through every day seemingly without a care in the world. As opposed to Kiana, there was no real method as to why she did things, going about everything in a lackadaisical manner. Every moment to her seemed as fleetingly whimsical as the next, although contrary to popular belief she was far from scatterbrained. But there was also something about her that made it to where if she were to be told that the world was going to be hit by a meteor the next day, she would wake up as cheerful as ever, go catch a few swells, and spend her final moments chilled out in a hammock somewhere on her favorite beach.

Noticing the way Kiana's eyes hadn't moved for quite a significant span of time, Victoria knew instantaneously what that expression on her partner's face meant; she was devising some kind of plan. What exactly that was, however, had yet to be deduced. Glancing in the direction that she was looking, the Aussie spied a young man through the throngs of people moving about to the beat of a techno-hip hop song that came from the PA system while the live band was on break. Despite the loose black suit and the white masque that covered the right side of his face, his features were still instantly recognizable to both girls.

"Gettin' a cravin' for some hot chocolate, Kiki?" Victoria observed with a deviant smile, watching as the Pot Meister Kilik Rung along with Fire and Thunder moved their bodies to their Capoeira before a small gathering of onlookers.

Blinking a few times as her partner's words pulled her out of her momentary trance, Kiana realized that she had been caught staring red handed like some pervy schoolgirl.

"Ag, nee! Don't be dof!" she fired back quickly in retort as she averted her gaze and crossed her wrapped arms over her chest defiantly; the flush of cherry red across her face deceiving her.

"What?" the Ulak Meister cooed playfully into her ear. "You don't think he's a lekker bloke? Well if you're not interested then I'm thinkin' I might try my luck. Who knows? I might just go give him a big ol' pash just for the hell of it!"

"Don't even think about it, chop!" Kiana snapped, her voice indicating more panic than agitation by her partner's brash proposal. She knew that Victoria was just trying to get a rise out of her, but blaady hell if it wasn't working more than she cared to admit.

"Well if you don't want me to have any fun then why don't you do something about it?" she heard the girl bait, causing her to let out a low growl of petty annoyance. She was trying to provoke her into doing something idiotic.

"Don't start with me, Vicky," she warned, but to no heed by the Aussie.

"Oh, I'll do more than just start with you!"

To Kiana's flustered horrification, the girl spontaneously grabbed her by the wrists and forcefully yanked her out of her chair, dragging her across the dance floor into the crowd of jovial students. Digging her heels into the wood proved entirely futile as she found herself suddenly much closer to the Pot Meister than she had initially anticipated. Now barely out of arms length, he and the Pots moved about in a fluid dance to the hip-hop that spewed from the speakers, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she was watching from directly behind them.

Reaching out from behind her, Victoria tapped the moving man on the shoulder with uninhibited boldness, grabbing his and the Weapons' attention.

"Alright, Kiki, go work what your mum gave ya!" Victoria encouraged over the music with a devilish grin, giving her partner a firm, unabashed slap on the rear. Squeaking from the strike and with cheeks flushed red, the Demon Ulaks now found herself completely thrown to the sharks, standing awkwardly in the inner ring of the circle of onlookers as Kilik, Fire, and Thunder had all stopped in their dancing, watching her curiously from behind their masques.

With her stomach feeling like it was lodged in her throat, her mind ordered her to say something, anything, instead of just standing there like a dolt, but the words just didn't seem to form. Spontaneousness was about the furthest thing from her comfort zone that she could think of. Even worse, now she was looking like an absolute chop in front of Kilik.

Whirling about on a whim, she made up her mind that this wasn't going to work. All she was doing was making a fool of herself. Best to retreat now and come back later with a well thought out plan of attack rather than doing it Vicky's way. But as she tried to make her withdrawal back into the safety of the crowd, she felt a snag on the hem of her gown stop her.

Looking down behind her at the source of her hindrance, she saw the two children had grabbed hold of her to keep her from leaving. Although they didn't say anything, their expressions were those of playful, innocent smiles, as though asking her not to leave so quickly.

"They want to see you dance," Kilik conveyed simply over the music, observing the way Fire and Thunder kept tugging at the mystery girl's dress, beckoning her back into the space within the circle.

"I…uh…I…," Kiana stammered. She had been in plenty of high stress situations before on missions, but the unexpected anxiety that her partner had forced upon her had left her completely vulnerable. Normally she would deal with the stress using her sarcastic tongue, but it was like all the snarkiness had been sucked from her. Her muscles were tense and she was suddenly very aware of her heart jackhammering within her chest. But before she knew it, a pair of hands grabbed her firmly by the shoulders and gave her a friendly push back towards the dance floor.

"Relax. Just be you," Victoria coaxed endearingly from behind her own masque.

Even though she wanted to disappear, or at the very least go back to her seat by the window, the combination of her partner's words and the encouraging tugs she continued to receive from the elemental twins seemed to have a calming effect on her. Feeling her body slacken and her heartbeat return to within the realms of normalcy, she sighed in a mixture of contention and relief, momentarily leaving her mental blocks to complete abandonment.

"I'm going to blaady murder you after this, Vicky!" she growled over her shoulder at her Meister, finding her voice as the curling smile on her lips betrayed her words.

"You're welcome!"

Still sensing the curiously scrutinizing gaze of Kilik and the rest of the small gathering falling on her, the teen took a second to fill her lungs with a deep collective breath to shake the lingering nerves. Releasing it out her nostrils, she felt the up-tempo blasts of the hip-hop beat pulse through the air around her, resonating within her core as she got a timing for the rhythm. The flowing rhymes of the lyrics and the whirring of the electronica samples helped give her a count of the cadence, letting her know when the opportune moment to begin was to arrive.

And when it did, she unleashed everything she had.

Twisting her arms above her head, her body began to flow and gyrate to the music, rocking at the hips with feet spread slightly apart. Her movements were graceful, but ever so rapid in her footwork, stomping the floor below in quick bursts of energy. Flailing her head about to the beats, she kept her eyes closed so as not to become too dizzy while also making herself less conscious to what she was actually doing. Displaying a hybrid style that rode the line between modern hip-hop and a traditional South African dance, she didn't really have a plan as to how she wanted to move her body, and for once she figured that was probably for the best.

Taking but a brief moment to reevaluate her surroundings as she continued to move, her worries all but vanished as she saw that Fire and Thunder had taken up positions alongside her, smiling brightly as they resumed their martial arts style of dance. Even Kilik seemed be enjoying her display, his face caught halfway between a content smirk and a look of surprise at her sudden change in demeanor. Nodding his head to the beat of the music as he watched her gyrate, it wasn't long before he too jumped back into the circle alongside his Weapons; the four of them busting out moves like there wasn't a single soul around them.

It wasn't until several minutes later when the song died down that the pig-tailed girl finally realized just how tired and parched she was from all of her dancing. Even though she was in fit shape, her body felt as though she had just run several miles and her legs were a little bit shaky. However, all that didn't really seem to matter because on the inside she was in a state of pure bliss. It might have taken a little bit of prodding from Vicky, but she had managed to not make a complete arse out of herself in front of the Pot Meister.

Panting lightly with a few beads of sweat rolling down her forehead from all the activity, the world came back into focus as she took a moment to look around her, wondering to herself if there had been that many people watching beforehand or if she was imagining things. Amongst the onlookers she did see Vicky, but her expression was entirely indecipherable behind her costume.

"Hey," she heard, her attention reverting quickly back to the Meister and his Weapons who she had shared the dance floor with. Now within arm's length of her, Kilik stood before her with a casually relaxed slouch and a toothy smile peeking from out behind his masque.

"That was on fire," he complimented, his tone brimming with impression. "It's been a while since I've seen someone burn up the dance floor like that."

"Izit?! Dankie!" Kiana blushed furiously, her returning nervousness allowing her native tongue to momentarily slip though. "I didn't think I was that lekker!"

Even though he really had no idea what the girl was saying, Kilik picked up on it enough to get the general gist.

"No, it was pretty awesome," he replied with a grin. "I don't think I've ever seen someone at the Academy who has moves like that. Actually, I don't think I've ever seen you around before. What's your name?"

"Kiana. Kiana Makali," she answered with a surprising more amount of confidence than she had been anticipating in light of all that had just happened. "But my friends just call me Kiki."

* * *

**Author's Note: And so thus ends the first half of this two part chapter to help you get into the Halloween spirit. I'm hoping to have the second half done by the 31st, but we'll see what happens. In the meantime I'm also very excited to announce that Soul Eater: Karma and Reaction has finally reached a significant milestone: 100,000 words! Yes, you may clap and cheer as well, but you might want to hold your applause until we reach the end of our story. Its been really fun so far, but we still have a long ways to go my friends. Hope you'll stick around for the long haul. **

**To be continued...**


	17. A Night For Faces Old and New: Part II

Chapter 17: A Night for Faces Old and New: Part II: Interest Point Duality?

Despite the overwhelming sense of loathing and dread he had felt prior to his mandatory attendance at the Academy's gala, Soul found himself enjoying the evening a little bit more than he had previously expected. Although he felt like he was being somewhat of a burden to her, he was silently thankful to have Maka keeping him close company throughout the course of the party. Her constant proximity helped to not only ease his self-deprecation and wanting to slip away, but she also acted as a visible deterrent to the myriad of E.A.T. and even a few N.O.T. girls who wanted to steal a dance with him. For that he was especially grateful. And so the night progressed with them enjoying merry conversation amongst the rest of Spartoi and fellow students, taking a much deserved rest from their responsibilities as up-and-coming faculty.

With a glass of fruit punch in hand, the Death Scythe sipped absent-mindedly from a corner of the grand ballroom while Maka chatted it up with Tsubaki, although he couldn't entirely understand what they were discussing due in part to his own distractedness and the thumping hip-hop tune that now boomed from the speakers. Content to people watch for the time being, a sharp-toothed grin spread over him as he spied a small circle of people forming about the dance floor in front of him.

"Hey, Maka, check it out," he said, giving her a slight nudge in the arm that grabbed her and Tsubaki's attention.

"What is it?" she questioned, turning about and following the silent finger that pointed towards the slowly growing circle of students. In the center of the gathering she could barely make out the distinctive features of Kilik, Fire, and Thunder through the wall of bodies that obscured her view, watching as they moved about to the beat along with a fourth person.

"Looks like someone's making a new friend," he grinned amusingly at the Pot Meister who was displaying his flowing movements.

"Who's that with Kilik?" Tsubaki wondered curiously, having never seen anyone like the dark-skinned girl in the mint green dress that was twisting and flailing about to the rhythm before.

"That's Kiana Makali. I recognize those pigtails anywhere," Maka stated over the music.

"Who?"

"She's one of my E.A.T. students in Professor Stein's class," the Scythe Meister explained. "She's a nice enough girl and makes good grades, but she's a little sarcastic and stubborn at times. I think a lot of that has to do with her partner though. Other than that I really don't know a whole lot. Professor Stein seems pretty fascinated with her though. She has some kind of anomaly with her soul that he says he wants to examine."

Raising their brows in curiosity, both Soul and Tsubaki couldn't help but wonder exactly what Maka meant by her explanation, although they knew exactly what she was implying by the mad scientist wanting to "examine" something.

"What do you mean by 'anomaly'?" Tsubaki asked.

"It's pretty interesting, but she has this thing that the Professor calls a 'split soul'," Maka said, observing her student as she danced about in an energetic display. "Her Weapon form is these two curved knives, so she's able to act like a duel-wielded Weapon even though it's just one soul."

"That's pretty cool. Can't say I've ever heard of that before," Soul remarked with a hint of intrigue. "So does her soul just split in two or something when she transforms? Is it like half of her in one knife and the other half in the other knife?"

"That's what I really don't know," she admitted. "I haven't gotten to watch her soul when she transforms, but I would like to just for curiosity's sake."

"I'm sure you'll get to watch sooner or later. That is if Professor Stein doesn't get to her first and do some of his wacko experiments on her," he replied simply with a morbid chuckle.

"Wacko, you say?" a muffled, almost indistinguishable voice questioned from directly behind them, causing the three Spartoi to reel about in surprise. Coming face to face with an imposing figure in a white hooded cloak, they found themselves staring into the blacked out eyes and long hooked beak of a white leather vulture-like mask. So caught off guard were the teens that Soul had all but spilled his drink all over the floor, Tsubaki let out a frightened yelp, and Maka was automatically reaching for her book to chop the stranger before she caught herself.

It took her a brief moment, but there was something oddly familiar about the hooded birdman. She hadn't been able to notice in at first in her jumpiness, but the distinctive stitches running about in random patches throughout the cloak and the mask were enough of a telltale sign for her to deduce the figure's identity.

"Professor Stein?" she questioned curiously with a cocked head, gazing into the large black holes that stared blankly back at them.

Standing up to his full height, the figure reached up and removed the hood from his head, revealing the distinctive screw jutting out of the left side of his skull.

"An astute observation, my young protégé," the mad scientist congratulated with a faint smile as he lifted the plague doctor's mask from his face.

"It really wasn't that hard to figure out, Professor," Maka grinned, silently thankful that it was just her former teacher turned mentor and not just some creepy guy in a mask. Although, there probably wasn't much difference to be found there, she reasoned.

"I like your costume though," she offered up kindly.

"Why thank you, Maka." the Professor replied evenly. "Marie's had a little bit of free time lately and needed something to pass the time, so she took the liberty of stitching together this outfit. Although I'm normally not one for playing dress up, I'm actually somewhat enjoying myself in this. It's made the night quite entertaining."

"Speak for yourself, Professor," Tsubaki chastised as her heartbeat began to return to its normal pace.

The scientist only chuckled light-heartedly at his fun, offering up his apologies for having frightened them so. Tsubaki waved everything off dismissively with a small laugh herself, but Soul trudged off with a grumble to find a paper towel or some napkins, complaining audibly about the punch Stein had caused him to spill on his slacks and shoes.

"Not to worry, Maka. I'll have Marie take a look and see if she can get the stains out," Stein remarked evenly. "She's a miracle worker when it comes to laundry. You should have seen the sorry condition some of my old lab coats were in, but she somehow managed to make them presentable once again."

"Thanks, Professor," the Two Star replied gratefully, knowing that those were one of only two pairs of Soul's good dress pants.

"Where is Mrs. Marie, Professor?" Tsubaki wondered casually.

"Oh, she's wandering around here somewhere," Stein said, giving the screw in his head a few clicking turns out of habit. "If my memory serves me correctly I believe that I last saw her talking with your father, Maka."

Although she couldn't help it, the Scythe Meister found her breath hitching for all but a brief moment; her emerald eyes growing wide and her muscles tensing on their own subconscious accord.

"Oh…" was all she managed to say calmly as she forced herself to relax her posture. She should have known better than to have reacted in such a surprised manner, and she had even told herself that there was a largely definite possibility of her crossing paths with her Papa as the night went along. She had known that before she even stepped out the door to their apartment earlier in the evening, but nonetheless she found herself face to face with the knowledge that her father was indeed in attendance somewhere within the Academy.

"Professor Stein-" she began, her voice conveying a hint of reluctance as she tried to find her words, but the scientist silenced her with a knowing hand before she could continue.

"Tsubaki, I apologize for asking, but might I have a few minutes to discuss something with Maka?" he inquired of the chain scythe politely, giving another few turns of his screw until a sharp click locked into place.

"Oh. Of course, Professor," the metallic-clad woman replied, giving Maka a friendly parting wave goodbye, telling her that she was going to go find where Black Star had gotten off to and that she would catch up later on.

With the two Scythe Meisters left temporarily to their own devices, Professor Stein and Maka stood side-by-side facing the dance floor as jubilant students continued with their festivities. There was a slight pause between them; neither saying anything to the other for an unusually lengthy period of time.

"Professor Stein?" Maka finally managed to utter, figuring that her superior had been waiting for her to begin their discussion on her own terms.

"Yes?" the bespectacled Meister replied evenly.

"My father's here, right? Did you happen to notice if there was anybody…with him?"

"I did," he confirmed simply.

"Did you happen to talk to them any?" she followed up vaguely.

Although he refrained from making eye contact with the teen, neither of them particularly felt the need to face one another, as the implications of the subject at hand were all but blatantly obvious. Reaching subconsciously into his coat pocket, Stein fished around in vain for his pack of non-existent cigarettes out of old habit, but conceded when he remembered that he had given that up for Marie's sake.

"I can only imagine what's going on inside your head right now, Maka," he stated in equal parts understanding and consolation, pushing the frames of his rounded glasses up the bridge of his nose. "It's a lot to take in, and I can tell by your soul that you're both confused and anxious about what's been going on in your father's personal life. I'm not going to say anything about the matter regarding her per se, seeing as how you're capable of making your own judgments, but I would like to tell you something if you would let me."

Hesitating for a moment, Maka fell silent as she wrestled internally with what she had been feeling ever since her last encounter with her father. It was obvious to her that she and Soul weren't the only ones who were aware of what was going on.

"Okay," she replied softly to his offer, barely audible over the music that continued to play.

"As a man of science, I've always felt as though I was incapable of understanding the premise behind basic human emotional responses outside of their rational means. That isn't to say that I have never felt emotions, but to me concepts such as happiness, sadness, envy, fear, and the like were merely constructs of the human psyche and the primal, subliminal byproducts of subsequent chemical reactions. The closest thing to true joy that I ever feel comes when I'm dissecting a new and unknown subject. To me that is euphoria at its finest. Even now with a caring partner such as Marie by my side and a child on the way, I still feel as though I'm only in the beginning stages of truly understanding the meaning of concepts such as love that have remained foreign to me for so long."

Glancing curiously upwards, Maka didn't quite know how to respond to Steins confession. She never really figured him to be the kind of person to discuss personal issues such as his feelings with anyone, let alone one of his students.

"That's…really sad, Professor," she said dispiritedly, thinking that Stein's inability to understand affection and love were akin to those of Crona's in much the same way.

"How so?" Stein replied evenly. "Even though I may not understand it, Marie is teaching me one small step at a time. Perhaps one day I might be able to understand emotions in the same manner the rest of the world does, but until then it's merely a learning process."

Reaching up towards the left side of his temple, he gave a few clicks of his screw before resuming.

"A few weeks ago your father showed up unexpectedly at my house one afternoon acting rather strangely," he recalled. "He was trying to be casual, but it was quite obvious that he was in confliction about something. After a little bit of prodding and reverse psychology we were able to get the truth out of him about this woman he met and he revealed that he had accidentally scheduled their dinner date on the same night that you two were supposed to have your father-daughter night together."

Scrunching her face in a pout, Maka tried her best not to let the revival of that particular fiasco get the better of her. Even though she supposed all was forgiven for his stunt, she still remained irked by the mere mention of it nonetheless.

"Even though his actions were indeed inexcusable, the way he talked about this woman was oddly different than the way he would talk about his other escapades in the past. Where normally he would only gloat about trivial things such as their appearance, instead he asked me something rather interesting that admittedly took me by surprise."

"What did he say?" she questioned.

Breaking his thousand-mile stare amongst the dancing students before him, Stein glanced downwards to the awaiting Scythe Meister with a faint smile across his face.

"He wanted me to give him dating advice," he said with a light laugh, noticing the confused and off-put expression Maka was giving him in light of the revelation. "Imagine that. Of all the people in the world to ask for expertise on relationships and he comes to me. Thankfully Marie was there to assist me and gave him far more advice than I ever would have been able to. But either way it revealed to me that something within your father might be changing. I understand that what happened in the past might not ever be mended, but I believe that after our battles against Asura and Medusa that your father is a different man, even if it might not appear that way at first glance. I'm not sure what will become of everything that is going on right now, but for the time being I see that he is sincerely attempting to commit himself to this endeavor. Whatever happens beyond this is entirely up to him, this woman, and to a significant degree, you, Maka. I don't want to feel like I'm putting you in any position considering this is a family matter and is frankly none of my business, but just remember that he is your only father and you are his only daughter. Even though I'm still learning how to understand what he means by it, he tells me that he does love you a lot more often than you think."

Standing there in silent contemplation, Maka didn't entirely know how to respond to the Professor's words, trying to find the right thing to say. For the most part she wanted to truly accept everything that Stein had said about her father as fact, but even still she had heard the "changed man" story more than once before. Even still, against her better judgment, she found his and Soul's advice on the issue comforting, because at the end of the day he may not have been perfect, but he was still her father and he deserved to be happy.

Nodding her head in confirmation, she took solace in all of this, having been preparing for this moment for a few weeks now. Even though she was still uncertain about everything, she knew that now was a time for her to be courageous, not only for herself, but for her Papa.

"Professor, do you know where they are right now?" she asked with resolve.

"Last I saw they were in the plaza," the scientist answered kindly.

"Thank you, Professor," she smiled warmly.

Feeling that the conversation needed no more words, Maka began to make her way off through the crowd to find her father.

"Oh, Maka, one more thing," Stein stated right as she was about to make her exit, causing her to spin around on a dime before she got too far.

"You look very nice tonight," he smiled faintly as he replaced his plague doctor's mask on his face. "Purple always was one of your mother's favorite colors."

Twirling back around happily, the Scythe Meister disappeared into the throngs of students, searching around observantly until she found the distinctive head of snow white hair peaking out amongst the myriad of costumes, dresses, and masques. Reaching her partner, she found him still in an irritable mood, although it looked like he was able to get the majority of the punch out of his pant legs, and the black material would help to hide it fairly well. Without skipping a beat, the Meister grabbed the Death Scythe by the arm, spinning him around and halfway dragging him as she moved quickly through the doors and into the adjoining hallway.

"Oi, Maka, what's going on? Where are we going?" Soul questioned in surprise as she led him along with a certain spring in her step.

"I need to go find Papa," she answered as they moved through the crowds of partygoers towards the front of the Academy.

"Huh? Why?" he questioned, wondering what in the world was going on with her to make her so determined to find her father.

"She's here."

"Wait, what? What are you talking about?"

"Hex is here, Soul. I want to go meet her," she stated as she led them down the staircases that led them onto the first level.

Rearing to a halt against her pull, Soul stopped them both dead in their tracks as he gently removed her hand from his wrist. While she gave him a curious look for having halted so suddenly, he gave her an equally questioning look, trying to decipher what could have gotten into his Meister to make her so hell-bent on finding this mystery woman.

"What?" she asked worriedly as he merely stood there examining her with a scrutinizing expression. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Blood ruby irises bored into hers of emerald hidden behind their masque, trying to quickly piece together what she had just told him. Not that he personally had any stake in any of this whole father-daughter-witch drama, but he somehow felt like she was inadvertently dragging him into the fray as well, whether he liked it or not.

"I'm not saying that this is a bad idea, but I just want you to make sure you know what you're doing," he stated with a collected concern. "I mean, I can't stop you or anything, but I just want to make sure you're prepared for when you meet her. You've been worrying about this for weeks now."

Recognizing his concern all too well, Maka had been asking herself almost the exact same thing ever since her father had confided in them during his surprise visit. She tried her best not to let it get to her too terribly much, but after her talk with Professor Stein she knew that tonight was pretty much now or never. She wasn't going to be able to avoid this issue for long, so there was really and truly no use in attempting to avoid it.

"I know what you mean, but I'm ready for this," she replied with a cheerful smile. "If I don't do it now then I'm just going to keep trying to sweep it under the rug and avoid it. I don't really know what's going to happen, but I won't know unless I try."

"Besides, you'll be there to help me out, right?" she added, doing her best puppy dog pout.

Groaning in disbelief that she had just effectively guilt-tripped him into going along with this, he conceded to the fact that he was going to get dragged into this whether he liked it or not. He had no issue whatsoever about being there to support his Meister through thick and thin, but at the same time the fact that she had played a dirty trick like the puppy dog pout made him question just what she was getting him into.

"Yeah, fine," he sighed as they started walking in search of the woman. "But if she turns out to be a complete moron and you've been worrying for nothing then you're on your own."

"Deal."

Allowing Maka to take the lead because she obviously knew where she was heading, Soul tailed her as they made their way through the Academy hallways towards the front of the school. The crowds within the hallways were thinner than those in the ballrooms, making it easier for them to move about, and eventually they emerged at the front doors of the Academy. There were a few small clusters of students standing about sipping on punch or faculty with flutes of champagne in hand as they conversed amongst one another, but it didn't take the two Spartoi members long to locate the distinctive mop of cherry red hair standing out amongst the crowd. He had his back to them, but his features were distinguishable nonetheless, and the fact that a healthy and well-along Mrs. Marie was standing beside him in their close triangle made it all the more obvious.

Neither of the two Death Scythes appeared to have noticed them as Maka and Soul momentarily observed them from a relatively safe distance, taking only a split second to spy the third member of their little congregation. Stunned to find that her father wasn't lying, the woman who Maka deduced as none other than Hex was in fact a stunningly mature woman with lengthy blue-green hair that fell past her shoulders and bangs that curled into two small spirals in front of her face. Dressed in a silky white ball gown with a series of powder blue hexagons adorning it in a pattern, her shining sapphire eyes barely peeked through from beneath her white half-faced masque in the dark of the night.

Looking beside her, she saw that Soul was equally, if not more, stunned than she was, standing with his jaw slightly agape and a faint, lecherous line of drool slipping down his chin.

"Hey, snap out of it!" she berated with a light pop on his head, pulling the Death Scythe out of his daze.

"Huh?! What?!" he stammered stupidly before recomposing himself smoothly, wiping the saliva off on his sleeve. "I wasn't staring. Cool guys totally don't stare at older women."

"Whatever," she growled dismissively, trying to focus on the matter at hand. "C'mon, let's do this."

Striding purposefully towards them, Soul trailed a few steps behind as the Two Star made a beeline approach for the group. While talking with Mrs. Marie was alright, he really had no desire whatsoever to talk to his senior Death Scythe, but it was the least he could do for Maka considering she had been keeping him company throughout the night. He figured the best thing to do was just let her do all the talking and he'd jump in if he really needed to.

Nearing them, he heard the boisterous laughter of Spirit echoing through the night and the following fainter laughs of the women. But before either he or Maka could extend any kind of greeting, they were spotted approaching out of the peripherals of Mrs. Marie's one eye.

"Oh, Maka! Soul! How are you?" she greeted cheerfully, causing Spirit to spin around excitedly at the mention of his daughter's name.

"Maka?!" he gasped from behind his full-faced kabuki mask, searching rapidly for his precious child, spying her instantly as she made their way beside them.

"Hello everyone," she greeted cheekily, desperately hoping that her father wouldn't do anything too terribly embarrassing.

"Maka!" Spirit sang giddily, seeing her in her outfit for the first time that night. "Look at you, you're absolutely beautiful! But then again you're always beautiful! I'm sure all the other girls are turning green with envy at the very sight of my precious angel! I can't believe it; you're growing up so fast! You're making me feel like an old man-!"

Cut off in his ramblings by the presence of the viridian-haired woman, she placed a comforting hand on the Death Scythe's shoulder with a soft smile.

"That's enough, Spirit," she admonished politely as her gaze met Maka's, noticing the flush of red crossing the teen's face. "Can't you see you're embarrassing her?"

Stepping forward so that she was now within arm's length of the violet-clad Meister, she stood a good head above Maka, eyeing her curiously with a soft smile about her features.

"So you must be Maka," she stated warmly, if a little bit timidly. "Spirit has told me so many good things about you. It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I'm Cyran."

Extending her hand in an offer of goodwill, Maka reached out with her own gloved hand and met her in the friendly gesture.

"It's nice to meet you too," she replied, at a slight loss of words of what to say or make of the woman she knew was a witch. She wasn't sure just how many people outside of her, Soul, and probably Professor Stein were aware of the fact, so she decided it best to not say anything on the matter at the moment. She didn't seem like one of her father's standard bimbos, so that was a good sign, and she really was quite beautiful, even more up close than from a distance.

"And you must be her Weapon partner, Soul Eater," she deduced, pointing a manicured nail towards the man who stood behind her. "The famous 'Last of the Death Scythes'. Spirit's told me…things…about you as well."

"Thanks?" Soul questioned quizzically, now wondering what in the world the lecherous senior Death Scythe had revealed to her.

"So are you two enjoying the party?" Cyran asked, trying to make conversation with the two teenagers.

"It's been fun so far," Maka replied honestly, although she silently wished that Soul would loosen up just a little bit and enjoy at least one dance. "It's a nice change of pace from our usual routine. We haven't gotten to have much fun ever since the school year started."

"Oh, that's right. Spirit told me that you're a professor at the Academy. That must be a lot of work for someone your age."

"A professor?" the Two Star stated, raising an accusing brow towards her father. "I wish I was a professor, but right now Soul and I are just teaching assistants."

Raising his hands in defense, Spirit was thankfully able to hide his embarrassment behind the protection of his kabuki mask.

"Alright, I might have stretched the truth on that part just a little bit," he admitted. "But it's only because I love you and believe in you, Maka. I know you're going to make a great professor one day."

Rolling her eyes dismissively at her father's statement, regardless of how supportive it sounded, Maka was admittedly a little bit surprised to find out that he had been talking about her in such an overinflated fashion. Although, she supposed that while he did exaggerate her current position, and probably a few other things about her and Soul, wasn't it at least better for him to be over-supportive than to not care at all? He might have stretched the truth, but for him to say that she would make a great professor in the future actually felt uplifting.

"Maka, you wouldn't happen to have seen Stein wandering around inside, would you?" Marie asked, stretching her back tiresomely to help alleviate some of the strain from the child she was carrying.

"Yeah, he practically scared us to death with that creepy costume you made him," Soul announced with a grumble, making his objection to the scientist's antics known.

"Oh, I'm sorry for that, Soul," she apologized with a sheepish smile. "I needed something to pass the time, so I thought I'd try my hand at sewing. I didn't realize Franken was going to use it to scare everyone."

"What else was he going to do with it?" Spirit questioned redundantly. "Giving Stein anything remotely creepy is like giving a kid a toy and telling him _not_ to play with it."

"I know. I should have known better," Marie admitted reluctantly.

Giving her back another stretch to help find some form of relief, the decommissioned Death Scythe groaned slightly at the burden with a wince.

"Are you alright, Mrs. Marie," Maka asked concernedly.

"Oh, I'm fine," she grunted. "I just can't stay on my feet as long as I used to. I think I need to go inside and sit down for a little while."

"Spirit, would you mind helping Mrs. Stein inside and help her find her husband?" Cyran requested kindly.

"Yeah, sure thing," the redhead replied, giving Marie a helping hand as they made their way within the Academy.

Watching as they went, Maka, Soul, found themselves momentarily left alone with the aliased witch. Beneath the darkened sky above and the black orbed moon, they kept to themselves with only the light chatter of their fellow partygoers to break the still silence. When at last the two Death Scythes had retreated inside the entrance to the school was the awkwardness broken.

"Miss Cyran?" Maka addressed, causing the older woman to turn to face her inquiry.

"Yes, Maka?" she said, her voice kind, but still carrying an underlying tint of reservation.

"I don't mean to pry, but are you and my father…" she began before stopping for a moment, trying to force the final word off her tongue before finally finding her voice. "Are you two…together?"

It was a bold, upfront question to ask of the complete stranger who she had met mere minutes ago, but it was one that Maka felt like she needed to ask for her own sake. She figured that if she wasn't able to do it now without her father hovering over her shoulder, she probably wouldn't have been able to ask anytime soon. And the sooner she got an answer, the better she could rest easily.

Much to her surprise, Cyran's lips curled ever so slightly, trying to hold back her laughter at the question. Cupping her hand over her mouth to hide her amusement, she was finally able to force the giggles down before appearing rude in light of the question.

"I apologize, Maka, I shouldn't have laughed at that," Cyran said, hoping she didn't come across as offending. "No, we're not together; at least not as far as I'm aware. I wouldn't even say we're dating. I suppose the best way to say it is we're both just feeling things out at the moment. He's helping me adjust to the city and I suppose in return I'm helping him by keeping him away from those tasteless women at ChupaCabra's."

Now it was Maka's turn to laugh as she heard Cyran's response, feeling all her anxiousness melt away. It wouldn't have mattered if she answered yes or no, but it was the mere fact that she had an answer that put her more at ease.

"No offense, Miss Cyran, but what were you doing at ChupaCabra's in the first place?" the Scythe Meister asked humorously. "You just don't seem like the kind of person that would go to that sort of place. I know we just met, but I can tell that you're different than those women there."

"Thank you, Maka. I wouldn't say we're that much different, but I just don't get any thrills from teasing drunken men for money," Cyran countered, grateful and amused by the girl's comment. "The only reason I went there to begin with is because I was dragged there by the owners. I'm not from around here and wanted to experience Death City, but their idea of that was taking me to their little cabaret, which is also where I met your father."

"By the owners you mean Risa and Arisa," Soul said observantly, redundantly reciting information that he already knew, but not letting on that he and Maka were already aware of her secret.

"Indeed," the woman confirmed. "I wouldn't call us friends. We're barely acquaintances at best, but they know the city better than anyone else that I know. So it was either keep their company and seduce intoxicated men or wander about the city on my own. That is up until Spirit made me the offer to show me around. I will admit that his negotiation tactics were rather…upfront…but as it turns out I actually enjoyed his company far more than I would have if I had stayed with Risa and Arisa."

Cocking a curious brow, both Maka and Soul didn't quite know what to make of her statement. The idea of spending any kind of extended company and actually enjoying it with either Spirit or the two bubbly witches was such a foreign concept to the two of them that they concluded that Cyran must have just chosen the lesser of the two evils.

"Not that I really care, but what does a classy lady like you see in a guy like him?" Soul questioned bluntly, earning himself a disapproving scowl from Maka beside him.

"Soul…" she growled lowly in warning.

"No, I know exactly what you mean," Cyran interjected before the Scythe Meister decided to get temperamental with the Death Scythe. "I'm well aware of Spirit's reputation with women, and honestly I did find his advances a little exasperating when we met, but the night we first went out for dinner and drinks there was just something about him that I found unexplainably charming. He had so many fascinating stories to tell, even if some of them might have been a tad bit exaggerated, and he did show himself to be quite the wine connoisseur. And I couldn't get him to keep quiet about you, Maka. He really does speak highly of you and I can tell that he's a proud father. He may have his quirks, but I never truly saw anything to convince me that he was a bad person."

"So he actually behaved himself?" Maka questioned flatly, speaking of her own father like he was a rambunctious child that needed constant monitoring.

"Oh yes. He was actually quite the gentleman," Cyran stated with a smile. "He paid for everything even though I told him he didn't have to, and when he managed to stop gushing about you he was constantly asking me all sorts of questions. It might have taken some help from the wine, but I eventually warmed up to him and the rest of the evening was surprisingly enjoyable."

Sighing in light of the fact, Maka was glad to hear such a positive comment come straight from the horse's mouth. Although women in the past had said nice things about her Papa to her face, more often than not she was quick to brush them off as only empty words.

"Well that's a relief," she said. "At least he didn't do anything stupid."

"Except for completely blow you off," Soul added in a not-so subtle jab at the Death Scythe.

"Yeah, except for that," Maka murmured.

Cocking a befuddled brow, Cyran became curious about what it was the two were talking about.

"What do you mean he blew you off?" she asked concernedly. "Did Spirit do something to upset you?"

"It's nothing," Maka muttered dismissively. Not that she was trying to be rude at all, but even if the woman seemed nice at first glance, she was nowhere near comfortable enough with her to discuss personal matters at that level.

Rubbing her hand beneath her chin, Cyran hummed momentarily in contemplation, figuring that she had probably crossed a personal line with her question. It wasn't her place to pry, but she easily deducted based upon Spirit's reputation and Maka's reaction that her and the Death Scythe's little outing must have interfered with something of family importance.

"Well that's perfectly alright, Maka. I think I understand the picture well enough. If it's any consolation can I make it up to you somehow?"

"You really don't have to," Maka protested sincerely. "It's not that big of a deal."

"Nonsense. Please, I insist," Cyran countered, giving a quick snap of her fingers.

"Soul Eater, would you mind checking your jacket pocket?" she instructed with a knowing smile.

Wondering what in the world the woman was talking about, Soul curiously opened up the left side of his jacket to the inside lining. Reaching inside the pocket, he felt something small and flat residing there that had certainly not been there before.

"The heck?" he said, pulling out a thin red book that had somehow materialized within his pinstriped jacket.

"Spirit told me that you really enjoy reading, Maka. I hope this will make up for any grief I've caused you," Cyran said, watching as the Death Scythe handed the book over to the girl.

Reading the cover, the Two Star's eyes grew wide in astonishment, not sure of what to say to the kind gesture.

"The Division Bell," she said, reading the title of the thin novel aloud. "I've never heard of this one. Wait…how did you-?"

Smiling that timid smile of hers, Cyran's sapphire eyes gave a knowing wink from behind her white masque.

"No need to be coy," she said softly, lowering her voice down so that those around them wouldn't overhear. "Spirit told me how you figured out my little secret. You really are quite the sharp one, aren't you, Maka? I was upset at first, but now that I know my safety isn't in nearly as much danger as I'd previously thought, I figure it's alright that at least you two know. I'm still reluctant to let too many people find out at the moment, but hopefully I can come out to them a little bit at a time. In the meantime, I hope you'll both keep it to yourselves for my own sake."

Nodding in understanding, nothing more needed to be said for the two teens to keep their mouths shut on the matter, especially Soul. He really had no desire to take another Maka Chop to the degree that he had gotten when he let the news slip to Blair.

Off to their side, Spirit reemerged from the Academy's entrance with two drinks in hand, striding back over to the group.

"Sorry about that," he apologized with a faint groan behind his mask as he returned from assisting Marie. "A couple of students started getting a little too touchy-feely so I had to break it up. What I wouldn't give to be young and dumb again."

"It's alright," Cyran said understandingly. "We were just acquainting ourselves. Maka certainly is everything you said she was, and Soul Eater is a fine young gentleman."

"My Maka sure is something, isn't she?!" Spirit boasted lovingly.

"Indeed," the white-clad witch confirmed. "So what do you say we all make our way inside? I've always wondered what Shibusen looks like."

"Then allow me the honor of giving you the grand tour, my sweet turquoise darling!" he proclaimed giddily, extending his arm out in an escort. Giving some quick parting words to the two teens, Cyran took the redhead's arm around her own and allowed him to take her within the jovial halls of the Academy.

Left to themselves in the dark of the night with only the background chatter of the partygoers to break the stillness, Soul and Maka found themselves staring in mixed emotions as the two adults disappeared into the depths of the festivities.

"So, what do you think?" Soul questioned neutrally, turning his attention back to his partner who stood beside him with book still in hand.

A moment of silent contemplation washed over Maka, trying to make heads or tails of all she had learned from their first encounter.

"I like her so far," she replied. "She seems to genuinely like Papa despite knowing what he's done. There's still a lot about her I don't know, but from what I can tell Papa could have done a whole lot worse than her. She's not my mother and I know that, but it seems like she makes him happy. She says they aren't dating, so time will tell I guess."

Picking up on the subtle sigh that Soul released at her answer, Maka gave him a quizzical glare that quietly demanded an explanation.

"What? You don't like her?"

"It's not that I don't like her," Soul countered, his tone low and suddenly serious as he spoke. "She's classy and she doesn't seem like a moron; not to mention she's got the looks to go along with it all. It's just that this isn't my deal to really care about. I don't want to sound like the bad guy here, because your dad did find himself a pretty cool lady, but at the end of the day how nice she is or how much your dad likes her doesn't really matter. As far as I'm concerned, all that really matters is that we still don't know a whole lot about her. I'm not going to jump to any conclusions or imply anything, but I just want you to stay on your toes, Maka. This whole alliance may be in place, but there are still a lot of dangerous ones out there. I just want you to be safe about it."

Shifting her gaze up towards his, she saw easily past the masque upon his face and into his expression that spoke of gentle forewarning and protective concern. He didn't need to say anything more beyond that, but she could see how the whole situation gave him room to worry, which was the last thing she ever wanted to make him do again.

"Okay, I'll be careful," she nodded, seeing Soul's mood lighten up slightly at her answer.

"Alright then," the Death Scythe confirmed, reaching out and taking the book from her hands and stowing it away back inside his jacket liner for safe keeping before extending his arm out in a formal gesture. "So you up for a dance?"

"Wait, now you want to dance?" she questioned. "You're not going to be all mopey about it, are you?"

"Nah, you've been pretty cool putting up with me all night. I guess I can do one dance to show my appreciation."

"Such a gentleman," Maka snided humorously, wrapping her hand around the crook of his arm and letting him lead her inside. She wasn't about to let her father and Cyran have all the fun.

* * *

Beneath the starry scenery above dotted by the single blackened void, almost all of the outlying streets and homes surrounding the outskirts of the Academy lay quiet and unperturbed. With the Hallows Eve Ball in full swing at the school, Death City offered the perfect night to wander about and enjoy the stillness of it all.

Off in a small park that offered a hint of green amongst the desert and gothic architecture of the city, Shuvo and Mirika made their way across the cool autumn grass into the center of the soccer field that currently lay dark and devoid of anyone else. Settling themselves down in the center of the pitch, they sat across from one another as the monk reached into his burgundy satchel that he had brought along with him. Producing two circular strands of sandalwood beads with small tassels on them, he handed one over to the girl while keeping the other for himself.

"What are these? Some kind of necklace?" the Meister wondered, holding the strands before her curiously as Shuvo produced some incense sticks from the bag as well.

"Not exactly," Shuvo corrected calmly, lighting up the scented wood before taking his strand easily in his left hand between his thumb and middle finger. "These are malas. They'll help us keep count as we meditate. You start at the larger bead, called the 'guru bead' and recite the mantra once per bead until you go around one time. This helps us to focus on our thoughts and our mantras."

"Okay, so what kind of mantra am I supposed to use?"

"There are no right or wrong mantras," Shuvo explained. "There are several prewritten ones you can use, or you can use whatever you wish to say. The idea is that over time we slowly engrain these mantras into our souls so that we can become one with them and keep them mindful every day. I would recommend something short and simple, but powerful. You can say it in your head as you count or say it out loud. Whatever you wish to do is your own choice."

"Alright then, you're the monk," Mirika said, trying to adjust herself comfortably to the lotus position that Shuvo seemed so at peace with. She hadn't even been sitting for a minute and her legs were already starting to go to sleep. "Let's do this."

"Go ahead and close your eyes," Shuvo instructed doing the same soon afterwards. "Take in a few deep, slow breaths and empty your mind of all stray thoughts. Try not to focus on any one thing, but allow thoughts to come through the emptiness."

Doing her best to follow his guidance, Mirika breathed in and out, her chest heaving slowly she tried to push any stray thoughts from the forefront of her mind. Sitting there in the stillness of the cool desert night, she found every breath slowing her heart down significantly until it was as though it wouldn't pump enough blood to keep her alive. For about a minute she and her Weapon sat there in their minds before Shuvo's calm voice startled her by breaking the silence.

"We gather ourselves here tonight to find harmony within the universe and all that resides within it," he began, his tone almost gong like in prayer. "We seek solace in the duality of ourselves and the world around us; in being and non-being. We take comfort in all that has been, all that is, and all that will be. We seek to better ourselves through the Precepts and the Noble Truths; through right mind, right speech, and right actions for the betterment of those who are not ourselves."

Pausing momentarily, he took a deep, collective breath before resuming.

"The pathway to enlightenment comes through the alleviations of sufferings physical, mental, and intemporal. A balanced soul dwells within a balanced mind and balanced flesh."

"You can begin your mantra now," he stated tranquilly.

Unsure of what to really do or say, Mirika snuck a quick, curious peek at the monk sitting before her. His face was like stone as the mala beads moved one by one methodically between his fingers with practice, and she supposed that she should probably be doing the same. She didn't ask for any of his prewritten mantras, so she figured she'd make do with what she could.

When in Rome, she supposed, allowing the first bead to slide through her fingers as she focused herself on the only thing that came out of the emptiness. She could feel something odd, yet pleasant happening within her soul, as though her wavelength was purging itself of some of the unrest that had been plaguing her for quite some time now.

Time itself seemed to slow down unbearably as she went from bead to bead, wondering after a while when she was going to near the end of the malas. Pushing that distraction from her mind, she kept right on going until she felt the familiar size of the enlarged guru bead. Stopping there, she opened her eyes, hoping that she wasn't breaking any unfamiliar monk rules by doing so. However, to her own relief, she saw Shuvo sitting there with eyes open as well and a small smile on his face.

"How do you feel?" he asked kindly as he watched her shuffle about a little bit from the unfamiliar sitting position upon the grass.

"I don't know," she said. "It's like that moment when you wake up from a dream. Everything's sort of fuzzy, but at the same time it's really clear. It's like wiping off a foggy mirror or something."

"Are you ready to try it?" he wondered.

Breathing in a deep, refreshing breath of chilled air and sweetened incense, Mirika unfurled herself from the ground, shaking out the pins and needles that ran up and down her legs.

"There's no trying anymore. We're doing this tonight," she said confidently, extending her hand outwards. Not needing to be told twice, Shuvo happily disappeared in a piercing flash of tangerine light, reemerging in her grasp in his khakkhara form.

Feeling the all familiar sensation encompassing him within the blackened expanse of his Weapon form, he found her wavelength significantly calmer than the first time he had been wielded by the dual-eyed girl. Unlike that first battle with the Gemini twins and their numerous training sessions, there was something different about this time around, and that alone filled the both of them with resolve.

"One mind," the Meister stated evenly, focusing herself on the wavelength coming from the monk staff connecting with her own.

"_One body," _the Weapon replied, concentrating on the wisps of indigo and silver within her Blackbird soul and the wings of calm, onyx flames that surrounded it.

"One soul," they recited together. "Let's go! Soul Resonance!"

Reaching out towards one another, tendrils of black and light blue static began to shoot outwards from their respective souls, sparking in ignition on a deeper spiritual level. Intertwining between each other, aggression came to understand tranquility, and tranquility came to understand aggression, harmonizing and synching in their amplifying synergy. Piercing bright white against the surrounding darkness, the glow that radiated from the khakkhara at last shattered, leaving a faint aura of energy to surround Meister and Weapon.

"_Did we do it?" _Shuvo questioned despite already knowing the answer.

"Hell yeah we did it!" Mirika stated assuredly, feeling the heightened power of their resonance coursing through both of them. "It feels like I've been waiting forever for to actually resonate with someone! And now to really crank this up! Next part is all on you, Shuvo! You've got it!"

"_I'll do my best__," _he said, closing his eyes within his own Weapon form, pushing his soul wavelength into its own inception. Activating his Soul Perception, the heightened wavelength allotted to him by their Soul Resonance showed him a hidden world unlike any he had ever seen before. Even though he wasn't seeing through his own eyes, he could see the shining white glows of the prāna that enveloped the world running like networks of rivers throughout both things animate and inanimate. The life force filled not only his and Mirika's souls, but encompassed the grass they sat on and the trees in the distance and the tiny insects that fluttered throughout the night. He turned his focus to them, becoming mindful, and began to harness their energy into his own manipulative form. Thanks in part to the Soul Resonance, the process that had previously taken him minutes to accomplish now took all but several seconds as the kernel of energy gathered at the forefront of his thoughts.

"_Eight Path Soul Gate: First Awakened Light," _he chanted, entwining the energy within their already harmonized Soul Resonance. Like fuel to a fire, their wavelengths grew and expanded from the newfound power, far surpassing anything either Meister or Weapon had ever experienced before.

In the outside world, Mirika could feel the energy from Shuvo's ability running rampant through her veins like a flowing stream of pure power. His khakkhara form was now radiating a white aura as the four brass rings attached to the larger rings began to levitate on their own accord. Unlike their previous failed attempts, the process wasn't broken by the influx of energy, but rather surged in its capacity to handle it.

"Shuvo, have I ever told you that you're the bomb?!" the girl announced before taking off in a sudden burst of speed and acceleration. Smiling brightly in pure ecstasy, Mirika felt as though she had finally awoken from a long, muddled sleep and her body and mind were crisp and sharp for the first time in her life. Taking a few moments to get the hang of the newfound ability, she spied a line of trees in the not-so far distance and made a beeline right for them in a sprinting burst. Glowing like a specter against the dark, she found her fist embedded within the wooden trunk of her first target, feeling it splinter and snap under the powerful punch. Doing the same to the other trees, she tested out a series of punches, chops, kicks, and thrusts with the dagger into the wood, all of them displaying a significant amount of power, although none of them quite able to pass all the way through the dense wood.

"_Mirika, I am almost at my limit," _Shuvo stated as his ability to hold everything together began to slowly wane.

"Alright," she said. "Keep at it for a little bit longer. I want to try something. When I say 'now', give me everything you've got."

Taking off in another sprint, the Meister gained momentum with the last untouched tree in her sights before propelling herself in a high, fantastic leap. Bringing the khakkhara to bear over her head, she fell several meters in front of the arbor before giving her signal.

"Now!" she shouted, slamming the brass rings of the Weapon into the earth below. Rocketing out in a flash of brilliant white and indigo, a blade of pure energy shot forth from the daggered protrusion that ripped and gouged at the grass beneath it as it sped headlong towards its target. Connecting into the tree, the energy engulfed it in a deafening blast, sending a sonic shockwave rippling back towards the duo. When at last the smoke cleared from the attack, it could be seen that a long fissure led up to what was now a shattered and splintered heap of wood and branches.

Slightly exhausted from his endeavor, Shuvo changed back into his human form, standing beside Mirika as they surveyed the extent of the damage they had caused with wide-eyed shock; neither of them quite able to comprehend the capability they had just unleashed through their combinations of Soul Resonance, Soul Perception, and Soul Gate.

"Okay…that right there…that was badass," Mirika pointed out with a wry grin of satisfaction, using everything she had to suppress her desire to cheer out wildly into the night in pure elation. "And do you know what the best part is?"

"That we were able to resonate and use Soul Gate?" Shuvo replied dumbly, still in disbelief at the raw power the two of them had unleashed.

"That," she confirmed with excitement lacing her voice. "And the fact that that was only the first Soul Gate level and we still have seven more to go. Those kishin eggs are gonna have no idea what hit them."

* * *

**A/N: Just a quick footnote for this chapter, but Cyran's name is pronounced like "Siren" and is a play on words between that and cyan, her dominant color.**


	18. From Subconscious Manifest

Chapter 18: From Subconscious Manifest: To Know Thy Enemy is to Know Thyself?

Hung against the sublime backdrop of the subconscious phantasm, the yellow crescent moon barred its teeth for all the world to bear witness, moving visibly in time with each throaty, morbid chuckle that escaped it. Breaking free of the clouds that hindered it, a lux light cast itself down upon the world below as a single, twisted eye shifted about in its lunar socket to gaze upon the earth beneath it. From there upon its heavenly perch, the blackened iris was met by those of a rich chocolate brown staring back.

Here within this realm of subconscious construction, physicality was but a mere abstraction and form was but a fleeting afterthought of its design; a plane of lucid thought and nothing more.

Seated beneath his earthly cover of vibrant peach blossoms, the crystal stream before him trickled harmoniously to reflect the night sky painted vividly above. The air that fluttered down the mountainside was crisp and revitalizing as he inhaled deeply, filing his lungs with the familiar scent of his homeland as it reminded him of that which he had willfully left behind. And for all but a passing moment all was right in the heavens and the world.

From out of the stream before him, the foreign and imposing presence of the figure made itself known as the waters churned and contorted. Dripping a deep blackened ink that reflected the vibrant yellow moon, the young monk's introspections were brought to a standstill as the shadow of the lanky entity filled his sight.

"Namaste," Shuvo greeted with equal warmth and confoundment to the one that invaded his musings.

Saying nothing, the featureless figure stood tall and erect upon the reflection of the water's surface, analyzing the young one before him with a voided expression.

"May I ask who you are?" he followed up, never wavering in the face of the unknown entity. It was an incomprehensible sensation, but for a second he could have sworn he had encountered this same being in the past. Just the mere act of gazing into the simple onyx oval that was its head stirred something within the depths of his memories that he couldn't come to terms with

Stepping lightly across the flowing water, droplets of ink left remnant ripples across the stream as the being strode with lengthy movements towards the shoreline. Reaching the soft, rocky edge of the bank, it continued forward methodically until it stood before the peach blossoms, staring down upon the monk with a quizzical cock of its head. Reaching down with a lanky arm that left onyx droplets in its wake, the figure placed slender fingers upon Shuvo's hairless head, nearly enveloping him with his appendages. With the thumb of the hand resting squarely between the boy's unfaltering eyes, a pulse burst forth from the fingertips that resonated deep within his core. Flowing in harmonic rhythm in their wake like gentle ripples, the following waves sent the monk deeper into his own spiritual perception.

Seeming to understand, the boy looked up through the palm that hindered his sight, mouthing the word softly at almost a whisper.

"Proxy," he stated, nodding his head in awestruck. "Your name is Proxy?"

Pulling its hand away from him, the entity met his question with a simple nod of its own as it continued to stare down upon the monk. Then from out of the phantasm a voice came forth from its featureless façade.

"Shuvo," it stated lowly in reply, the name barely audible as though spoken through water.

"Yes, that is correct," the boy smiled in return.

"Shuvo…Shuvo…Shuvo," it continued in repetition, its deepened voice slowly rising in pitch before blackness enveloped the world once again and the rush of sensation reignited within his flesh.

"Hey! Shuvo!"

Rolling about with a tiresome groan of protest, he felt the unpleasant sting of a hand popping him lightly on the face and the thin white covers that enveloped him get ripped unceremoniously off of him. Still clinging to the sweet lull of sleep, he flickered his eyes open just enough to fight back the sunlight that suddenly filled his vision and the muddled blur of Mirika taking shape from out beneath his eyelids.

"Hey, get your sorry ass up!" he heard her shout commandingly. "We're gonna be late!"

With that one single word being mentioned, Shuvo's mind and body went into a full state of panic at the mere contemplation of being tardy. Flinging himself out of his makeshift bed as though it was on fire, he scrambled quickly to throw his orange robes on, only managing to get them on haphazardly as he slid across the floor to his desk.

"Hurry up!" Mirika barked from behind him, tapping her foot on the floor in anxiousness as she waited for him to get all of his school supplies. "If we run for it we might make it by the skin of our teeth!"

Not bothering to be neat and organized about it, Shuvo flung his notebooks and pencils into his satchel and threw it over his shoulder as he scrambled out the door to the hallway. Slipping on the bare wood floor, he picked himself up quickly as he grabbed some fruit from the kitchen, stuffing them down the front of his robes as he fumbled with the lock to the door. Finally getting the latch undone, he flung the door open forcefully and made a mad dash down the hallway.

"Please, please, please let us not be late!" he cried frantically, practically flinging himself down the entire set of stairs. "How much time do we have, Mirika?!"

It was only at that moment that he realized that in his state of adrenaline-filled terror he never once heard the heavy steps of his partner's feet following behind him. Looking over his shoulder, he didn't see her or hear her coming down the hallway, making him wonder if he had actually moved so fast that he hadn't given her a chance to get her things together as well.

"Mirika?!" he called out behind him in worry, feeling his heart pounding within his chest cavity. "Mirika?! We need to hurry!"

Jogging back up the staircase, he poked his head down the hall to see it completely barren with absolutely no sign of his Meister anywhere to be found. She wasn't scrambling to lock the door and he couldn't hear anything resembling a clamor as she tried to gather her things to join him. Rather, the closer he got back to their apartment entrance that was still left ajar the more it sounded like she was caught in a wheezing fit and struggling to breathe. Fearing that perhaps she had tried to take a bite of breakfast in her rush and was choking, he sprinted back inside.

"Mirika?!" he panted in worry, bursting through the doorway ready to assist her however he could. But lo and behold, rather than find the girl choking or frantically rushing to grab her things, he found her sprawled out on the couch in nothing more than a loose black band t-shirt and short shorts with her face buried in one of the cushions in a half-hearted attempt to muffle her hysterical laughter.

"Holy crap! Your face! You should see your face!" she snorted, kicking wildly against the couch as she pointed a finger at the stupefied monk who stood in the doorway with a look of utter shock and perplexion about him. "I-I can't breathe! That worked even better than I thought it would!"

Coming to the undeniable and unpleasant conclusion that he had been duped by one of Mirika's cruel jokes, the monk begrudgingly closed the door behind him and took his satchel off as he shook his head in disbelief.

"And once again I have allowed my ignorance to be preyed upon," he groaned lightly, drooping his head as the adrenaline rush began to subside. Reaching within his robe, he removed the fruit that he had stuffed inside and placed them on the table.

"C'mon, that was funny and you know it," Mirika chuckled into the cushion, trying her best to hold it together.

"Your sense of humor is going to be the death of me one of these days," he sighed, smiling in conceit to the fact that despite the rude awakening, maybe it was a little bit funny. He just hoped that she wouldn't do anything like that again.

Glancing upwards towards the clock that hung over the kitchen sink, he saw that it was indeed a few minutes before eight, which didn't make any sense at all as to why they weren't actually trying to hightail it to get to class on time. It was a Monday, no doubt about that, so surely he didn't get the day of the week wrong.

"The clock says that it is almost eight," he pointed out observantly. "Are classes cancelled today for some reason?"

"Nope, we still have class, but it's only seven," Mirika explained, wiping away a few small tears from her eyes from laughing so hard. "We got an extra hour for Daylight Savings Time."

"Daylight Savings Time?"

"What? You've never heard of Daylight Savings Time?" she smirked in amusement. "Actually, that's not really fair for me to pick on you for not knowing, but man if that didn't make my morning watching you freak out like that. Anyways, Daylight Savings Time is where we roll the clocks back an hour for winter, so just for today we got an extra hour of sleep. So up and at 'em, Sunshine!"

"You seem awfully joyful this morning," he said, trudging slowly towards the bathroom to prepare himself for the rest of the day.

"Hell yeah I am!" she cheered. "Sid and Teach are gonna flip their lids when they find out we can resonate _and_ use your Soul Gate. Plus I can't wait to show everyone our attack, which still needs a name by the way."

Stepping in front of the bathroom mirror, Shuvo listened to her excitement as he straightened out his haphazardly thrown on robes and rubbed the sudden fit of weariness out of his eyes.

"And what do you suggest we name it?" he called out down the hallway.

"I dunno. Haven't really gotten that far yet. It needs to be short, sweet, and to the point, but also needs to show the enemy we mean business."

"I will meditate on it then, although I am sure that you will come up with something far more, as you say, 'badass'," he joked before shutting the bathroom door to adequately prepare himself for the day ahead.

Allowing the warm stream of water to run over him, the monk closed his eyes as he enjoyed the sensation. Allowing himself a moment to finally breathe easy from his less than ideal wake up call, his mind seemed to drift on its own back to that faint and fuzzy dreamscape that he had been pulled from. Try as he might to recollect everything that had transpired, the memory of his visions seemed to have fled from his psyche, leaving only a snippet of it remaining. He could vaguely recall something about being back beneath his favorite tree on the mountainside, but everything beyond that seemed to be a blur. There was also a strange black figure, but he couldn't pinpoint anything distinctive about it other than the fact that it was dark and tall.

"I know I have seen that figure before," he muttered to himself as the steam from the shower thickened around him. "And I know that I have had that same dream in the past, so why can I not remember when?"

Allowing the memory to slip past him, he figured that there was really no use in worrying too much about it. Dreams sometimes had tendencies of repeating themselves, and so he brushed the thought off to the side to focus on the day ahead.

* * *

Showered, properly dressed, and well fed, Shuvo was able to finally rest easy as he and Mirika settled themselves into their seats with plenty of time to spare before Craftlove's class began. Gathering his things in anticipation for the day's lesson, he neatly organized his notebook and pencil as a good student should while his partner pulled her music player from her jacket and put the earbuds in to drown out the rest of the world. After several weeks of being around her, he had come to expect as much from his Meister, seeing as how she could get into a rather irritable mood if she didn't have her morning dose of heavy metal to get her going the same way other people relied on coffee.

While the classroom itself was still rather sparse in attendance, the doors at the front opened up to reveal Yumi and Remmy, who made their way up the steps to their usual spots directly behind them.

"Good morning," Shuvo greeted brightly, as was per his custom to his fellow classmates, and frankly the closest friends he had outside of Mirika.

"Good morning, Shuvo," Yumi replied kindly in return.

"Mor…mornin'," Remmy managed to slur with a tiresome yawn, planting his face flat on his desktop as soon as he hit his seat.

"Trouble sleeping last night?" Shuvo questioned.

"Nope… just partied like a rock star all night Saturday and now my body is all out of whack," the Musket Meister grumbled, never once lifting his head from his desk. Mere seconds later, a faint snore could be heard emitting from the weary teen, much to the mild embarrassment of his Weapon.

Figuring it best just to let him be for the time being, Yumi shook her head and shrugged it off, hoping that he would at least wake up when the bell rang.

"So how was your weekend? We never did see you at the party," she said; her bubblegum irises looking down and away as she spoke. "We were wondering if you might have gotten sick or something like that."

"No, thankfully we were not sick," Shuvo replied gratefully. "Going to the party just did not interest either of us, so we decided not to go. We actually spent our weekend working on our teamwork and we were even able to do a Soul Resonance three times."

"Really?!" the Arisaka gasped excitedly. "That's amazing! Congratulations! I'm pretty sure that makes you the first one's in the class who can actually do a Soul Resonance. So what happens to you and Mirika when you're resonating? Does your khakkhara form change at all? And I'm sure you have some really amazing attack that you can do now, right?"

Grinning widely as he listened to the girl's animated compliments and questions, Shuvo knew that being able to resonate was a major step forward in his partnership, but quietly reminded himself to be humble about the whole thing as well.

"Thank you, Yumi. We are very excited about it as well," he replied gratefully. "And I am sure that you and Remmy will be able to do it in no time. As for when we are resonating, it is interesting because-"

Cut off in his explanation by the dinging of the eight note bell, the doors to the classroom were opened soon thereafter to announce Professor Craftlove's presence, and subsequently his authority over his students.

"We can show you later," Shuvo whispered, turning his attention quickly back towards his teacher in eager anticipation of another day of academics and learning.

"Good morning class. How are we this fine day? I certainly hope you've all adequately recovered from this weekend's little shindig," Craftlove greeted enthusiastically, receiving only a tiresome and half-hearted response from some on his students.

"Oh, come now. Don't tell me you're all really that tired?" he laughed. "You have the wonderful gift of youth, so let's look alive, shall we? That means you too, Mister Tonne. You can sleep on your own time."

Grunting audibly at the mention of his name, Remmy awoke and picked his face up off the desktop just enough to rest it in the palms of his hand, completely oblivious to the fact that half the class was chuckling at the small bubble of snot that was expanding and contracting from his right nostril.

"Very good," Craftlove continued. "Now today we have something rather special in store for you, so you would be wise to stay awake and pay attention. Some of you might actually learn something for a change. So for those of you who haven't been living under a rock during the last year, you all should be aware that our relations with the witches have taken a rather dramatic turn from the past. I'm not here to discuss politics or to hear your opinions on witches, because that is not part of my job. However, it is part of my job to educate you on the basics of witches and witchcraft, and as such I have brought in a special guest speaker to talk to you today who will hopefully enlighten you. Needless to say I hope you will all be on your best behavior."

Curious as to who this guest speaker could be, those in the classroom who were previously not fully awake now sat attentively in their seats in anticipation.

"You can come in now," Craftlove called out towards the door, prompting it to open slowly with a soft creak.

Sitting on the edge of their seats, a collective murmur of confusion and befuddlement filled the class as none other than their own teaching assistant entered the room.

"Hello everyone," Tsubaki greeted warmly to the N.O.T. students, who were left thoroughly scratching their heads as to how the busty Shadow Arms constituted a "surprise" guest.

From out of the audience of students, someone raised the question of just what exactly was going on, but Professor Craftlove merely dismissed them with a wave of his tattooed hand.

"I think she's just a little shy, Professor," Tsubaki smiled sheepishly, prompting further confusion on the class's part. Was the guest speaker still out in the hallway and too timid to come inside for some reason or another?

"That's perfectly alright, Miss Tsubaki. There's no rush," he inked gentleman replied, reaching into the pocket of his tweed jacket and producing a small ball wrapped in purple tinfoil. "Maybe she would like some candy instead?"

Now thoroughly perplexed by what was going on at the front of the class, the students were now whispering amongst themselves in an attempt to decipher just who, what, or where, this guest speaker was. However, much to their confounding shock and surprise, the little ball of candy levitated out of the Professor's outstretched hand, unwrapped itself, and promptly disappeared into thin air.

"It's a ghost!" came the shrill cry of one of the female students, igniting a wave of panic amongst several of the more easily frightened members of the audience. Some of the N.O.T. class quickly hid under their desk while others clung tightly onto the person next to them protectively. A select few even transformed into their Weapon form, ready to defend against the unknown threat.

And all the while Mirika was just laughing her head off at the entire spectacle.

"Now class, settle down. There's no need to be afraid," Craftlove announced, trying to retain order amongst his students. "And for goodness sake, put your Weapons away. I can assure you that there's no ghost. You're actually making it harder for her by acting like this."

Peeking out from out beneath their desks warily, those who had ducked and covered reemerged with a certain sense of trust and uncertainty.

"Are you sure, Professor?" Yumi asked, unlatching herself from Remmy, who in all the commotion didn't appear to be the least bit startled by all the shouting and screaming.

"I'm quite positive," Craftlove reassured, allowing his class a moment to resettle themselves before turning to his assistant. "Miss Tsubaki, perhaps you could convince our special guest that there's nothing to fear."

"I'll try, Professor," she said, crouching down at the knees and saying some reassuring words as though to coax the air itself. Baffled by her actions, the entirety of the class watched on as the Two Star Weapon nodded her head a few times before returning to her full height.

"She wants two more pieces of candy, Professor" Tsubaki conveyed amusingly.

Laughing heartedly at the proposition, the inked teacher seemed to be the only one amongst them that found the situation a laughing matter.

"She's quite the negotiator I see," he observed, reaching into his pocket once more. "Very well then. Two candies it is."

Extending his hand out with the requested bargaining chips, they too quickly seemed to defy gravity, floating midair before vanishing one by one. Soon thereafter, something strange began to happen to the air, as though a short figure was beginning to materialize. Sure enough, seconds later came the distinctive arrival of a small child clinging close to Tsubaki's leg, seeming to be around the age of five or six with rosy cheeks and brown hair. Outfitted in a long white skirt and a black blouse with a red bowstring tie, she also wore thick white gloves and a peculiar pointed black hat with googley eyes and a curled pink tongue sticking out the front.

"Class, say hello to Angela Leon," Craftlove prompted cheerfully, motioning towards the child. "She's a witch; or rather she's the DWMA's designated adopted witch."

A mixture of reactions filled the classroom at the sight of the little girl, ranging from silent curiosity, to wary glares, to even a few squeals of delight and remarks about her cuteness. Little by little, the young witch's shyness seemed to dissolve and she slowly separated herself from the older woman.

From his vantage point in the third row of seats, Shuvo observed the child with analytical wonderment, having never seen an actual witch in real life before. He certainly was familiar with them from the numerous books he had read from Bhante's collection, but like his first impression of Old Lord Death, it seemed as though what he thought he knew and what was truly real were two very different things. Just as Old Lord Death had been described within the texts as a frightful harvester of the wicked, witches themselves had been described as cunning, sinister beings whose sole existence was dedicated to undermining Lord Death's order. None of those things seemed to entail at all to the little girl that now stood before them.

"Consider this our first lesson in the 'Introduction to Witches' segment of our class," he heard Craftlove remark. "And what better way for us to learn about witches than by skipping the textbooks and going straight to the source. So who has a question for Miss An, or a question about witches in general?"

An awkward silence fell over Class Rising Sun at the proposition as the hundred eyes all focused in on Angela. Like Shuvo, almost all of them had never been exposed to a real life witch, and the fact that the little girl standing before them defied all stereotypical descriptions of one was throwing them through a loop.

At last a student in the front row raised his hand to indicate his query.

"Professor, what do you mean by she's the Academy's 'adopted witch'? Does that mean she's on our side or something?" he questioned. "And why would the Academy adopt a witch in the first place?"

Although blunt and potentially offending if taken the wrong way, it became apparent that Craftlove understood the underlying context behind the boy's question and nodded his head in acknowledgement. After all, after the incident with the DWMA secretly keeping a kishin beneath its foundation there was a legitimate concern as to why they would openly admit to be harboring a witch.

"That is a good question," the professor said. "There are several reasons why the Academy has decided to bring Miss An under its roof, but the main one is simply that she doesn't have any other place to go at the moment. It's a bit of a long story, but because our little witch here is still developing her magic there are quite a number of people out there who see her as an easy target. Due to certain circumstances with the witches, Lord Death decided that the Academy couldn't turn a blind eye to a child in need, even if she is a witch, and so she is now under our protection."

Although a select few of the students didn't appear entirely convinced or approving of the answer, most of them could see the logical and ethical reasoning behind everything.

Breathing a silent sigh of relief, Tsubaki was thankful that Craftlove hadn't gone too terribly in depth on Angela's situation. As far as both the professor and Angela were aware, Lord Death had permitted the action because the witch's previous guardian, the samurai Mifune, had entrusted her care to her and Black Star while he traveled the world in order to strengthen himself. Unbeknownst to them, however, that story was only partly true. In order to keep the true fate of Mifune a secret from Angela, she and Black Star had taken up the duty of being her guardians while also forcing themselves to keep up the charade about what truly happened. To those unaware of what had actually transpired, Angela was simply a young witch who had taken a liking to the Shadow Arms, and to a lesser degree her Meister and the rest of Spartoi.

"So whose side is she on?" the boy pressed without regard to the rude context of his question, causing a fair majority of the class to stare at Angela in collective force as they awaited an answer.

For only the second time since he had been at the Academy, Shuvo saw Craftlove's normally cheerful face wane with a scowl in tiresome exasperation, seeing as how his classmate had caused the young witch to hide once more behind Miss Tsubaki's leg.

"That's enough of that," he scolded evenly, his sacred eye tattoos furrowing into a disapproving gleam. "Lord Death has made it abundantly clear that there are no more 'sides' between the Academy and the Coven. Witches are our allies and friends now, and that goes for Miss An here as well. She is our guest and will be treated as such. Understood?"

"Yes, Professor," the boy conceded, seemingly not at all satisfied by the response that Craftlove had given him. Glancing downwards from his seat at the little witch with a slight scowl of his own, his wary expression was met by Angela, who poked her head out just enough to stick her tongue out at him.

"Good, because you better get used to the idea quite quickly," the inked teacher announced to the entire class. "I understand that the idea of being around witches is still foreign to most all of you, but Miss An here isn't going to be the only witch that you'll be encountering while you're here at the Academy. I was saving this announcement for the end of class, but I believe now would be as good as any to tell you that come next year the DWMA is going to begin openly admitting some of the younger witches into its ranks as potential Meisters. And yes, you did hear me correctly. Witches _will_ be joining the Academy."

An explosive clamor of voices rose up in equal parts confusion, disapproval, and astonishment at the news, filling the lecture hall with an indistinguishable myriad of vocal opinions. A wall of expressive protests and questions slammed headlong into the professor, who silently had expected as much from his students. Despite being a scholar on witches and witchcraft himself, Craftlove had his own private concerns regarding the boldly radical move by Lord Death, but in the end it was not his place to make that final decision. And after sitting in on the very private discussion between the Reaper and Mabaa-sama, his own list of questions regarding the Coven had only grown longer.

"Settle down class," he ordered with growing impatience. "I know that this is all sudden for you, but let's try to be civilized about it. I know you have your questions and I will try to answer them as best as I can as we talk about witches in our studies, but for now if you have that much of an issue with it then I would suggest you go talk with Lord Death."

Reigning in his class, Craftlove could see their confusion, objection, and even downright hatred of the idea written plainly on his students' faces, but he figured that like all new changes it would take some time to get accustomed to it before it became as normal as everything else.

"I know you're all concerned about this decision, but that's why we're going to learn more about witches before we begin our integration," he explained calmly. "Miss Tsubaki and I believe that if we can introduce you to actual witches like Miss An here then we can help show you that not all witches are bad. So I'll ask again, does anyone have a question for Miss An or about witches in general that doesn't involve politics?"

Scanning the class with dark grey irises, Craftlove was thankful to see an outstretched hand from one of his more compassionate students jutting out towards the back of the class.

"Yes, Mister Bhakta," he called out cheerfully. "What questions do you have for us?"

Lowering his hand as he was called upon, Shuvo could see Mirika raise a quizzical brow at him from out of his peripherals.

"I actually had a question for Miss Angela," the monk announced with a soft, friendly smile that seemed to put the little witch at a bit of ease. "I was wondering what sort of things you like to do for fun. I am guessing that there are not too many others at the Academy that are your age, so do you have anyone to play games with?"

Raising brows of profound curiosity, Shuvo could feel the weight of the entirety of Class Rising Sun bearing down on him, including his own Meister. Seconds went by extraordinarily slow for the monk, who suddenly was feeling very isolated amongst his peers as he wondered which part of what he had asked had come across the wrong way.

It was then that Shuvo noticed two things happen ; Mirika released a muffled snort of amusement, curling her lips into a knowing smirk, and Angela came out fully from behind Tsubaki with the most innocent look of glee he had ever seen on a child.

"Yep! Tsubaki plays with An all the time!" the little witch cheered brightly, the pink tongue on her hat unfurling itself as she replied. "We play tag and checkers, and An is really good at hide and seek! Sometimes An even gets to train with Tsubaki and the big dummy!"

"The big dummy?" Shuvo questioned.

"Yeah, the big dummy Blac-!"

"Okay, Angela, I think that's enough of that for right now!" Tsubaki stated with an embarrassed blush as she quickly clamped her hand around the witch's mouth before she let out too much information about what her Meister was like outside of the Academy. Heaven forbid that her students learn that the almighty bushin considered trying to spy on her naked in the bath as part of his "training".

Off on the other end of the classroom, another hand sprung forward in query, quickly followed by several more. Although he never would take credit for it himself, Shuvo's simple, childish question towards the young witch sparked a conversation that bombarded Professor Craftlove, Tsubaki, and Angela with questions ranging from matters of the Coven to what the little girl's favorite kind of candy was, lasting up until the ending bell rang to dismiss them to lunch and then eventually to G.W.A.A.R.

* * *

Hidden away in a secretive crevice carved into the barren mountainside, the faintest sliver of inviting light fought back the chilling blanket of night that had begun to sweep over the earthen landscape. Rising up like uncanny obelisks, boulders and stones dotted the scenery for as far as the eye could see, helping to mask the orange and yellow glow that flickered just along the entrance to the cavernous expanse within as well as the shadowed figure that stood just outside of it.

Leaned up against the jagged entryway, the Sorcerer named Noah stared out amongst the emptiness with a sharpened gleam in his eye and a faint scowl on his face, which had gone unshaven for quite some time now. His collared black shirt and khaki pants, too, were wrinkled and riddled with filth from months without being properly cleaned.

"Dammit," he gripped with a snarl, hearing and feeling his empty stomach give an audible grumble. Doing the only thing he could to express his anger and frustration at the current situation, he slammed his fist into the rocky cavern wall, leaving a faint indention of his hand in the stone.

"Hey, useless brat, hurry it up in there!" he barked into the depths of the cavern at the black-haired teen who was currently tending to a large iron pot over an open flame.

"Yes, Noah-sama! I would hate nothing more than to see you starve!" the Sorcerer's faithful lacky, Gopher, cheered happily in response, using a wooden spoon to stir and sample the meager stew he was preparing for their supper. "I really hope you'll like it, Noah-samas! Even though it isn't much, it's filled to the brim with my loyalty and cooked on the undying flames of my devotion!"

"I can't fill my stomach with loyalty and devotion, brat!" Noah seethed back, leaving another small crater in the rock face with his fist.

"Your words are all the sustenance I need to keep going, Noah-sama," Gopher replied, forming his signature V-smile.

Off in the depths of the cavern, just outside of the reach of the cooking flame, a throaty snore and a grumble rang out as another figure rustled about exhaustively.

"Hey, both of you keep it down," the Sloth Noah called out with a whining yawn, pulling his blanket back over his head to keep the light out of his eyes as he lay on his pitiful excuse of a mattress. "Just wake me up whenever dinner's ready."

"Like you've done a damn thing all day," Envy Noah quipped harshly, earning himself a nodding approval from Lust Noah, who sat against the wall trying not to think about the last time he saw a descent pair of breasts.

"That's the pot calling the kettle black," Pride Noah stated nonchalantly, completely disregarding the fact that not a single one of them had done anything productive throughout the day save for ganging up on Gopher.

One would think that by all of them being embodiments of the chapters of the Book of Eibon that the six Noahs who currently occupied the desert cave would be able to be at least compatible with one another, but the harsh reality is that it was quite the opposite. Even though they were all essentially the same person on the outside, the major differences in their personas only led to them having petty squabbles amongst themselves; that is, when they weren't verbally and physically abusing their passionately devoted minion.

Luckily for Gopher, he knew that his Noah-samas got a little irritable when they were hungry, so food was one of the few things that could get them all into agreement for at least a short while.

"Alright, it's ready, Noah-samas!" the young man announced lovingly, stepping back as the ravenous band of Sorcerers descended upon their meal like a pack of vultures. Even as they bickered amongst themselves still, primarily to keep Gluttony Noah from devouring everything, Gopher couldn't help but be filled with loving content knowing that he was supporting his masters the way a good servant should.

Finally calmed down for the evening, the Noah's sat quietly on the barren floor of the cavern as they filled their stomachs with the makeshift stew, speaking only to comment negatively on how the watered down concoction tasted before going back to eating.

Grabbing a bowl of his own once his Noah-samas had already gotten their fill, Gopher was just about to ladle out a cup full before his attention was suddenly disrupted by the faint sound of rocks shuffling across the ground. Contorting his face into a forceful frown of anger, the young man twisted around on a dime as blackened spiral Grigori wings erupted from his arms. Aiming his hands in front of him, he unleashed a rapid burst of black energy disks at the cavern's entrance.

"Bullet Wings!" he cried.

"What the hell are you doing, you stupid bastard?! Are you trying to cause a cave in?!" Wrath Noah barked, wondering what in the world was going on, but also secretly hoping there would actually be a fight involved.

Watching as the smoke and dust from the pummeled rock began to clear, Gopher never looked away from the entrance as he kept on his guard.

"I won't allow you to hurt Noah-sama!" he shouted with small tears of anger and passion pooling at the corner of his eyes.

Settling from the onslaught, the faint outline of a hooded figure began to emerge calmly from the aftermath, stepping forward with hands raised up in submission.

"Looks like I finally found you, Sorcerer Noah," a male voice stated casually as he entered the sight of the cave's occupants. "I guess that Shibusen's intelligence was on point after all. Saved me the trouble of having to turn over every rock in the world to figure out where you've been hiding."

"So you are after Noah-sama!" Gopher shouted furiously, unleashing a vicious second volley of magical black energy disks at the mysterious figure. "And you're with Shibusen! Well you can't have them! I will protect my Noah-samas with all the strength of my heart!"

Rocketing shot after shot, the crazed minion stopped his assault only to puff out his chest at the intruder, allowing it to open up wide like a fabric mouth and form a ball of magical energy in its center.

"You disgusting pigs will never understand the true power of passion!" he screamed dementedly. "Love Canno-!"

"Shut the hell up, you annoying brat!" Wrath Noah commanded, striking Gopher in the back of the head with the back of his hand, causing him to stop mid-attack. "Just what are you trying to do, bring the whole damn mountain caving in on top of us?!"

Reeling from the unexpected strike from his own superior, the young Grigori turned about with a pitiful expression of suppressed rage, understanding that his attack would have been overkill, but that was entirely the point to begin with.

"But Noah-sama-!"

"Quit your babbling, brat," Wrath Noah sneered, eyeing the hooded figure with piercing eyes. "He's not Shibusen. If it was the Reaper there would be an entire task force of Death Scythes to come take me out. The bounty on my head is probably pretty big right now, so he'd send his best to take care of the job."

Training an accusing finger on the man, Noah eyed him warily as he hadn't failed to notice how the intruder seemed entirely unharmed even after Gopher's attack.

"Alright, spill it. Just who the hell are you and what are you doing here?" he inquired demandingly.

Taking a casual step forward, the shadowy figure lowered his hands momentarily, pulling back the hood of his cloak to reveal a young man with rows of evenly cut spiked light brown hair. Although slightly obscured from view, it could be seen that he also kept a grey scarf wrapped around his neck as well.

"I won't call myself a friend, but considering the circumstances I'm probably the closest thing you have to one right now," he stated with a casual bluntness. "My name's Orobo Rύse. I was given the task of finding you on behalf of my Lady because we're in need of your particular assistance, Noah."

"By 'Lady' I'm assuming you mean a witch?" Noah sneered in response.

"Yes," Orobo replied simply.

"Which means that she only wants my 'assistance' for some sort of plot against the Reaper, just like Arachne did," he deducted easily.

Glaring evenly at the calm, spiky-haired brunette, Wrath Noah's disgruntled expression turned upwards into a malicious smirk, finally erupting in mocking laughter.

"Piss off," he stated between chuckles, echoing through the cavern as the rest of the Noah's began to join in the conversation.

"Why the hell would I need to work for another witch?!" Pride Noah chimed in smug amusement. "I don't need anyone's help, especially someone from the Coven!"

"It sounds like too much work," Sloth Noah added wearily.

Rising up in an insulting clamor, each of the six Noahs offered their own particular explanation as to why they didn't need to pay any mind to what Orobo had to offer. Standing there silently with a neutral facade, the young brunette allowed them to have their say at his expense before their insults finally began to wane.

"My Lady cautioned me that in the event that I actually found you that your response would be as such," Orobo sighed evenly. "I apologize, but I believe that you misconstrue our intentions. You see, my Lady is presently part of the Coven, but with the new alliance between the witches and Shibusen she has grown tiresome of this disastrous game that the two are playing with one another. She sees this alliance as merely a different, far more dangerous threat to the existence of the witch race than ever before. And so she has devised a plan to help shift the paradigm in this struggle for survival. Her preparations are almost complete and all she needs now is one final piece to set it all in motion. That is why she has sought you out. You have a very vital key in your collection that she wishes to utilize. If you offer up your assistance in our endeavor, my Lady will make it worth your while a hundred fold."

Chuckling with malevolent amusement, Wrath Noah merely crossed his arms across his chest.

"Well then tell your Lady that she's shit out of luck. Not interested."

"Is that because you no longer wish to see Shibusen crumble or because you no longer have the Book of Eibon in your possession?" Orobo countered smoothly.

With that one question, all six Noahs' as well as Gopher's face contorted into a displeased grimace.

"Both Shibusen and my Lady are well aware of the fact that the Book of Eibon is sealed away within the depths of the Mad Blood that engulfed the moon. She is also aware that you were its rightful owner prior to it becoming imprisoned there and also that in a sense both you and your henchman are products of the book. With that in mind, my Lady would like to extend you this proposition; if you will assist her in obtaining the final piece of her plan, she'll give you Shibusen itself to dispose of in whatever way you wish. You'll have the Book of Eibon back in your hands, and all of Death City, including its Meisters and Weapons, will be yours to wreak havoc upon so that you may add to your collection or destroy as you see fit."

"That is, all except for the Grim Reaper," Orobo added. "The privilege of his demise belongs to someone else."

Watching as the orange glow of the firelight flickered across the strange man, Wrath Noah contemplated the proposition warily. He certainly did like the idea of being able to have the magic book back in his possession and he was almost positive that this Orobo fellow was aware that he was pretty much powerless without it, leaving him without many bargaining chips to use.

"What are you thinking, Noah-sama?" Gopher questioned, ready to stand by his master no matter his answer.

Humming to himself, Wrath Noah cocked a brow as he cogitated on the idea.

"Answer me this," he stated harshly to Orobo. "What specimen exactly from my collection would she need? My answer to your proposition depends on whether or not I like what this Lady of yours is thinking."

"Obviously I'm not at a liberty to reveal the entirety of my Lady's plan, but the key component she is missing is a particular soul that has long since been thought missing since the Grim Times. The soul of a certain Eighth Warlord. If she can utilize this soul then you will have her eternal gratitude as well as your rewards."

"What the hell?! How did you know that was in my collection?!" Noah growled lowly.

"I didn't. You just told me," Orobo replied smoothly.

Smacking his hand into his face in disbelief, the raging sorcerer couldn't believe he had just been duped by one of the oldest tricks in the book.

"Noah-sama, you're saying too much!" Gopher explained meekly.

"Shut up!" Noah barked, taking a second to recompose himself before his murmured string of swears turned into a maniacal laughter.

"So let me get this straight, you bastard. This witch of yours had you track me down at the ends of the earth knowing that her plan for overthrowing the Reaper hinged entirely on the assumption that I had that particular soul in my collection _and _knowing that the damn book is stuck on the moon where the Kishin and the Demon Swordsman are trapped?! That's rich! This bitch must be out of her mind to come up with such a hair-brained pile of crap!"

His jeering appeared to fall on deaf ears as Orobo didn't flinch at all at his Lady being insulted in such a fashion.

"I love it!" he declared dementedly, prompting the other five Noahs to join in to his cackle.

"Noah-sama?" Gopher questioned aloud in perplexion.

"Shut it," Noah rebutted. "I don't know what this witch has up her sleeve, but if she's insane enough to want to use _that_ soul then I have to admit that I'm curious to see where this is going. And as long as I get the Book of Eibon back and get to release some of this pent up aggression on Shibusen then I really don't care what happens to the bitch or her precious plan."

"And I will finally make that flat-chested pig pay for humiliating me in front of Noah-sama!" Gopher grinned widely with his W-smile.

A hearty clamor from the remaining Noahs filled the cavern with their boasts, filling the night with the rarity of their collective agreement.

"Then we are in accord," Orobo announced, replacing the hood of his cloak over his face. "If you would kindly follow me then, my Lady is anxiously awaiting our return."

* * *

"Let's go! Soul Resonance!"

Harmonizing and intertwining within their souls, the whirlwind surrounding Weapon and Meister picked up substantially as the two partners grunted in determined resolve. Pulsing with the amplification of their soul wavelengths, the energy that filled them finally reached its peak, bursting forth with a powerful shockwave that left behind an iridescent light that surrounded the monk staff with a luminous aura.

"Go for it, Shuvo!" the Mirika grinned smugly, listening to the tinkling of the brass rings as they bounced off of one another.

"_Right," _the khakkhara answered confidently as he activated his Soul Perception, allowing him to see the hidden networks of prāna that ran through the onlooking gathering of N.O.T. students. _"Eight Path Soul Gate: First Awakened Light." _

Surging with the influx of spiritual energy, the iridescent glow surrounding the staff grew in intensity to surround both Meister and Weapon. Grinning wide as she rode the high of their multiplied resonance, Mirika took off like a rocket across the training ground, striking target dummies with her fist and the heel of her boot, destroying them far more easily than the dense wood of the trees from the night before. Coming up on another target, she twirled Shuvo skillfully in her hands before striking the facsimile with one of his outer ring and channeling her soul wavelength, causing it to explode from the blow.

"Alright, one more to go!" the dual-eyed girl declared, the tail of her leather jacket trailing behind her as she sprinted for the target full speed.

"_I am ready when you are, Mirika." _

"Roger that."

Taking off in a fantastic leap, the Meister spun the khakkhara rapidly in her palm like a helicopter before gripping the foot end of the staff. Bringing Shuvo to bear over her head, she slammed his rings into the artificial turf, releasing a blade of white and indigo energy from his daggered tip that left a jagged fissure in the earth as it sped headlong before engulfed the dummy in a reverberating blast.

Rising from her crouch, Mirika gave the staff a dramatic spin in her palm just for added effect before resting him across the width of her shoulders.

"Well, Sid, what'd ya think of that?" she questioned, failing to hide her smirk from the zombie as well as the rest of the G.W.A.A.R. class.

Standing on the sidelines, the blue-skinned man gave no immediate indication of his response as he analyzed their demonstration with crossed arms.

"It's certainly an improvement," he replied evenly in admittance. "Overall, it's a very well done resonance for students of your caliber. Your timing and technique can still use some work, but you are the first pair to do a proper Soul Resonance in your class. Good job you two."

"So does that mean we're good to go on missions now?" Mirika questioned, trying her best to mask her excitement.

"I suppose it does," Sid replied. "I'll let Lord Death know that you're cleared for D ranked missions after class."

"Hell yeah!" she cheered, pumping her fist as Shuvo reverted back to his human form. "You're freakin' awesome, Sid!"

"Thank you very much, Mister Sid," the monk bowed respectfully in Namaste. "We will not disappoint you."

Taking his subordinates' gratitude in humble stride, the zombified man nodded simply in appreciation.

"I always was the kind of man to give credit where credit is due, and you two have come a long way in a relatively short time" he said. "Just remember that now isn't the time to slack off just because you can resonate. You still have a long ways to go in your training to get where we want you to be."

"Got it," Mirika confirmed, flashing her hand sign with her pinky and index fingers extended.

"Understood," Shuvo nodded.

Turning his attention away from the partners, Sid blew his whistle for another pair to come demonstrate their combat skills. Retreating off to the sidelines for a quick breather, Mirika grabbed two bottles of water, handing one off to her Weapon.

"That was seriously the best," she grinned, taking a few sips. "It feels like your Soul Gate is getting stronger each time we do that attack."

"It is not just the Soul Gate. It is both of us who are getting stronger," Shuvo replied humbly. "And the more we are able to practice, the better we will fare when we go on our missions."

"I can't wait. I'm so pumped for this."

Looking out across the track, the two of them could see Remmy and Yumi running towards a new set of target dummies, practicing skewering them at close range with the Arisaka's bayonet.

"I had an idea for a name for our attack," Shuvo stated casually, taking a sip from his bottle.

"Really?" Mirika replied with peaked interest. "Well I haven't thought of anything, so let's hear it."

"I am not very creative, but I sort of enjoy the name 'Astralight'."

"Astralight' huh? That's actually pretty cool," she said. "How'd you think of that one?"

"I feel as though that is what we are creating when we resonate," he explained as best as he could. "It is the light that comes from our astral selves working in harmony with each other."

Although he never was one to boast about his abilities, Mirika knew better than to believe her overly-humble oddball of a partner. What he had just explained was far more creative and deep than he truly realized.

"Well alright then. Looks like we have ourselves a winner," she smirked in content, flashing that same strange hand sign. "Astralight' it is."

* * *

**A:N/ For everyone who follows, favorites, reads, and reviews my story, I just would like to say thank you from the bottom of my heart. I take the greatest pride in knowing that people are enjoying something that I've created. I know this fic is a long, slow burn, but thank you all the same for sticking with it. **


	19. The House of Souls and Bones

_Disclosure: I'm raising the rating for this chapter from T to M. I know that won't deter you from reading, but I figured I'd give you fair warning anyways._

* * *

Chapter 19: The House of Souls and Bones: I'm Not The Devil or Your Hero?

It hadn't taken long after Sid's declaration to the Khakkhara Meister and her Weapon that they were cleared for duty for the overly-anxious teenage goth and the śrāmanera to find themselves standing in front of the large missions board, eagerly sifting through the ones available to their skill level. Although the number of pre-kishin souls popping up around the world had slowed down significantly following the Kishin's defeat, there were still a fair amount of them rearing their heads that continued to keep the DWMA in business.

"How about this one, Mirika?" Shuvo wondered, taking one of the mission tags off the board. "A man running a small smuggling ring for souls in South America named Pablo the Pin King. It says that currently he is a D-rank, but is quickly gaining power and must be dealt with before his operation becomes any bigger."

"Hmmm…maybe," the Meister replied unsurely. "That's not a bad one, but let's see what else there is. This is our first mission and I want to find us something good. Not that we're gonna get the pick of the litter with just a No Star clearance, but I want to try to find something other than some second-rate criminal to go after."

Reading over a few of the other mission specifications, her eyes grew wide and her black painted lips curled in an ecstatic grin.

"Jackpot," she declared, holding up the tag for Shuvo to read. "A D-ranked mission in Savannah, Georgia. There's a woman named Hannah Lecter there who's been eating not only people's souls, but the people too. She's gotten two victims so far and Lord Death needs a team to find her and take her out before she can strike again."

"Wait, so does that mean that she is a…?" Shuvo trailed off, gulping audibly at the thought.

"Yep," Mirika confirmed with a certain amount of enthusiasm that the khakkhara didn't quite know how to properly respond to. "We've got ourselves a cannibal."

* * *

High up in the spire of an antiquated red church made of brick, the sounding of brass bells announced to the passing patrons below that a new hour was upon them as the laughing ball of sun slowly began its decent into the mid-afternoon over the city of Savannah. A historic city nestled into the marshy coastal wetlands, it had a particular southern antebellum charm about it that appealed to passing visitors as well as the families that had remained there since its founding. It was certainly a city unlike any that the young Tibetan had ever seen before.

"And that's all I have to say about that."

Seated on a long wooden bench in the town center, Shuvo waited casually for his Meister to return from her quick detour as he listened to a man in his late thirties finish a riveting story about his past. Although he and Mirika had been searching tenaciously for their target since the late morning, nobody in the city seemed to know exactly who or where their target was, and so they had decided to take a short break from their mission.

"That is most fascinating, Mister," Shuvo replied sincerely. The buzzed-cut man dressed sharply in a creamy beige suit that had come up and sat down beside him had struck up his tale completely on a whim, as though he had been searching for someone who would listen. His accent was drawled and he seemed a little bit slower than most, but the young Weapon could feel instinctively that the man was kind hearted with an innocent soul.

Reaching down, the man pointed curiously towards Shuvo's bare feet.

"My Mama always said that you can tell a lot about a person from their shoes. Where they go; where they've been. But you don't seem to gots none. That must be uncomfortable walking around with no shoes on."

Kicking his legs out in front of him, Shuvo observed the calluses and dirt that clung to the bottom of his feet, having never really thought much about it before

"I have never owned any footware, although I have never found much need for them in the first place," he replied with a smile. "Many people do not like it, but I enjoy the feeling of the earth beneath my feet. I feel closer to it that way. Sometimes it is a little uncomfortable when I am walking on concrete, especially when it is hot outside, but I have gotten used to it."

Emerging from one of the storefronts across the street from where they were seated, Mirika reemerged with an ice cream in hand. Despite it being into the thick of fall, the weather outside was still pleasantly warm with a slight lingering of coastal humidity.

"Ready to go?" she questioned, taking a lick of her chocolate cone, glancing over at the suited man her partner had been conversing with.

"Yes, we should get back to our search."

Rising from the bench, Shuvo gave a quick departing bow to the man.

"My apologies, Mister, but it seems that we must be going now," he said politely. "It certainly was a pleasure talking to you. I hope that your future journeys are memorable ones."

"Thank you. Good luck with your lady friend fighting all the bad people."

Giving a friendly wave goodbye, Shuvo and Mirika were off to wander aimlessly around the small park in the town square, passing by an elaborate fountain and turning down a pathway beneath a canopy of dangling Spanish moss trees.

"You know, you're something else sometimes," Mirika commented offhandedly, taking another lick of her ice cream as they walked along.

"How so?" Shuvo questioned as he admired the city's architecture and landscaping.

"I dunno, you just have this way of making friends no matter where you go," she said casually with a slight shrug of her shoulders. "Like yesterday in class with that witch Angela. Everybody was all afraid of her, but you just talked to her like you would to any other kid. It says a lot about you. I don't know if it's because you're so sensitive to other souls or what, but people just seem to like you and you like them."

Turning down a cobblestone street, the two found themselves traveling by a school where children were playing; their jubilant screams and laughter filling the air as they ran about the playground.

"I just try my best to be a good person to everyone," he remarked humbly. "If I am kind to people then they will be kind to me in return. I will admit it is not always so easy, but I do not believe that I have made anyone dislike me for any reason."

"Well just be careful with that kind of thinking," Mirika cautioned. "Not trying to burst your bubble or anything, but there's too many people out there that will take advantage of that kindness. Not everybody's as good-hearted as you are."

"Or as you," Shuvo added in return.

Raising a brow, she turned her gaze towards the children running around the schoolyard so as to not face his comment. Walking along beneath the dangling moss above, she stayed silent on the matter, allowing them to fall into a cadence as their footsteps moved in time across the pavement.

"Here, I don't want the rest of this. You take it," she stated, holding what little bit of her ice cream was left out in front of him.

"But it is the afternoon," he gently reminded of his convictions.

"Just take it," she repeated firmly. "I really don't think you're gonna upset the cosmic balance of the universe if you have two bites."

Sighing in defeat, Shuvo reluctantly took the treat in hand, eyeing it quizzically as he said a silent prayer to himself asking for forgiveness. Taking a tentative bite, he would have been lying to himself if he had said that he didn't enjoy the creamy snack.

"Do you wanna try your Soul Perception again?" Mirika wondered as they continued onwards aimlessly, hoping that maybe his ability might be able to pick up on the corrupted soul somewhere in the city.

"We can try it, but I am fairly certain that she is not anywhere around this area."

Coming up at a steady trot behind them, the clip-clop of hooves against the cobblestone alerted them to an old-timey horse-drawn carriage growing closer. Passing by on their right, they could see that the horse was a white mare with speckles of brown while the carriage was painted white with red padded benches and no roof. Sitting in the front seat and holding the reigns was an older gentleman dressed sharply in black slacks and a long white dress shirt with a black vest, while in the back sat two ladies. Outfitted in loose yellow and blue sun dresses and hats, they appeared to be a mother and teenage daughter enjoying the sunshine much like the rest of the residents.

"Oh my stars, would ya look at that!" the mother announced giddily with a heavy drawl, tapping the man on the shoulder. "Mister James! Mister James, stop the carriage!"

Pulling on the reins at woman's sudden request, the driver brought the carriage to a jerking halt.

"Ma'am?" he questioned as the mother stepped lightly from the buggy, moving with excited steps across the cobblestone until she was mere feet away from the N.O.T. students.

"My goodness gracious, aren't ya just the most darlin' thing I ever did see?!" she squealed in delight, bending over until she was almost nose to nose with the justifiably surprised Weapon. "Oh, if I could just take ya home with me and keep ya forever 'n ever I would!"

From his position in front of her, Shuvo could see that the woman appeared to be around the realm of her mid-forties with obviously dyed blonde hair and a slight pudginess to her that pushed her cheeks back as she gave a bright-eyed smile.

"I-uh…good afternoon to you as well, Miss," he replied as best as he could, leaning back ever so slightly to put a little bit of distance between himself and the overly-exuberant woman.

Glancing over to Mirika for some form of assistance in the matter, the Meister just gave a befuddled look in return and shrugged her shoulders. The woman certainly was eccentric, but didn't really look like any kind of immediate threat, so there really wasn't much the Meister could do. Luckily for him, however, the teen who had been riding alongside her in the carriage came to his timely rescue.

"Mama, quit pesterin' him," the dark-haired daughter chided with the same southern drawl, strolling up behind them with an exasperated face. Although she did seem to carry some of the older woman's features, she was still lithe with youth and proportional in just the right places for her age. "He ain't a stray you can just pick up off the streets and take home. Let him be."

A wave of sudden embarrassment washed over the woman, who took a step back at her daughter's revelation with a hint of red flushing her cheeks.

"Oh, heavens me, I did it again, didn't I?" she declared. "I'm terribly sorry about that, hon. I just can't help myself sometimes when I see somethin' that catches my eye. Well I do suppose I should at least introduce myself. I'm Margaret Leigh. So charmed to meet you."

Extending a chubby hand outwards, the bewildered monk took it acceptingly as he too figured that the woman was just overly excitable and nothing more.

"It is nice to meet you too, Missus Leigh," he replied as politely as he could. "I am Shuvo Bhakta and this is my part-"

"Oh, that's such a darlin' name!" Margaret joyfully interrupted unintentionally, completely disregarding Mirika as the monk attempted to carry on with their introductions. "And please, it's just Miss Leigh. I haven't been a Missus for quite some time now, although I could get hitched again if I really felt like it. Oh, but enough about me. Now I take it that ya'll ain't from around here?"

"That obvious, huh?" Mirika questioned flatly with an underlying snarkiness that went completely over Miss Margaret's head, finally able to get a word in edgewise.

"Well ya'll certainly aren't like any of the locals I've ever seen," she replied with a laugh. "I should know. The Leigh family has lived here for almost a hundred and fifty years and I've been here near all my life, so I can tell a local from those just passin' through."

With eyes growing wide at the simple revelation, Shuvo couldn't believe their good fortune by happening to run into someone with an insider's understanding of who was in the city.

"That is actually wonderful to hear," he said. "You see, we are from the DWMA and have-"

"Oh, the DWMA! My, that certainly is somethin'!" Miss Margaret interrupted once more, gushing as though she had just met a pair of Hollywood celebrities. "Now I take it you're here to try to get to the bottom of these horrible murders we've been havin' lately? Tragic. Just tragic. Near dang got everyone so scared to death that ain't nobody wants to go out at night any more. But I'm sure that's why Lord Death sent a strappin' young man like you to come and take care of it."

Grinning sheepishly, Shuvo rubbed his free hand on the back of his dome as he tried to downplay the exuberant woman's statement.

"You humble me, Miss Margaret, but it is not just me. Lord Death has sent both me and my partner Mirika here to find and dispose of an evil human by the name of Hannah Lecter. Would you happen to know anything regarding where she might be hiding or where she last struck? We would be most grateful for anything that can help us find her as quickly as possible."

"Oh, why of course, hon! Anything to help!" the Leigh scion answered enthusiastically. "Now let's see, I don't recall ever hearin' of any Hannah Lecter, but I can tell ya what I read in the paper. The first time it happened it was to one of the Johnston boys. Supposedly he went out on a jog and never came back. The other was a poor man from the city. I think he was doing a census or something like that and he went missing not too long after the Johnston boy. Come a few days later both of the poor souls' bodies were found just on the edge of the swamp outside of town. The police said there wasn't much left of 'em; seemed like the gators got to 'em or somethin'. Gives me the shivers just thinkin' about it."

Feeling a cold tingle run its way down his spine, Shuvo shuttered unconsciously in light of the revelation while Mirika maintained an entirely neutral façade, as though completely unfazed.

"Well try not to think about it then, alright, Mama?" the daughter implored with her own tinge of anxiousness. "I don't mean to rush, but we should leave the DWMA to their work so we can go home. It's gonna be dark soon and we really should get back before it gets too late. Miss Belle will probably have supper waitin' for us by then anyways."

"Oh, that's a wonderful idea, hon. Ya know what, we should invite 'em along," Miss Margaret declared before turning back to the duo. "How would you like to come join us for supper, Shuvo? It won't take very long, I promise. We're only a few miles down the road. You can't go out fightin' evil on an empty stomach now can ya?"

"I appreciate the offer, Miss Margaret, but I believe it would probably be best if we graciously declined," Shuvo replied. "We cannot afford to be getting distracted while we are on our mission. Right, Mirika?"

Eyeing his Meister for confirmation, it came as a surprise to him when she just shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly.

"Meh, I say why not. It's free food after all and we won't be that long," she replied casually. "Besides, your Soul Perception's pretty much cleared this whole part of town, so we might as well try a new area and see if we can pick anything up."

"Oh, how delightful! I'm so excited!" Miss Margaret said cheerfully. "Well then let's be on our way then, shall we? I don't want to keep ya'll too terribly long."

Sashaying back over to the carriage where the man called Mister James was awaiting the return of the two women with the upmost patience, Miss Margaret climbed up upon the red velvet bench seat behind him with the three teens trailing behind her. Once inside the buggy, the older gentleman gave a light crack of the reins, causing the carriage to jerk slightly as the mare took off down the street in a light trot.

"I'm sorry if Mama was being a bother to ya'll. She don't mean no harm, but sometimes she just gets a lil' carried away," the daughter murmured apologetically as the five of them travelled beneath the shade of the dangling Spanish moss. "I never did get a chance to introduce myself. I'm Vivien."

Extending a gloved hand daintily outwards, the southern teen shook each of the N.O.T. students' in turn with a certain sophistication that indicated she had been trained in the classical ways of behaving like a proper lady. Although she introduced herself with a genuine charm and intrigue for the monk, her smiled became slightly more plastic as she silently examined Mirika uneasily. Although the Meister was accustomed to such a cold welcome by strangers based on her appearance alone, it still mildly irritated her how the girl kept trying to steal a glance at her as though she were some sort of alien being and the mother hadn't even bothered to acknowledge her existence.

"We really are grateful that Lord Death sent someone to come take care of this monster," Vivien added as the carriage turned down a long drive lined on either side by drooping canopies of the stringy grey moss. "The sooner ya'll can take care of it, the better."

"Her," Mirika stated offhandedly. "The corrupted soul's name is Hannah Lecter, and _she's_ an evil human, not a monster. Big difference. Evil humans are pretty messed up, but monsters are a whole 'nother ball game. At least that's what I've heard."

"Wait, what do ya mean by that?" the teen wondered worriedly. "Have ya'll never fought a monster before?"

Forcing herself to stifle a devilish smirk, Mirika merely gazed out past the driver to the plantation home that was coming into view.

"I wouldn't worry your pretty lil' head about it," the Meister answered cryptically. "We'll get the job done one way or another."

Unsure if she was entirely convinced by the goth's reply or not, Vivien tried her best to dismiss it as at last they arrived back at the safety of the Leigh manor. Pulling up to the antebellum home, the residence was a two story white building that rode a fine line between looking too antiquated and just distressed enough to have a certain charm about it. Beds of flowers lined the front entrance in front of the window sills and vines of ivy crawled their way up the facade white columns that supported the second level, in the center of which was a fair-sized balcony with an overlooking patio area.

"Well, here we are, darlings!" Miss Margaret announced as Mister James brought the buggy to a halt just in front of the stoop. "There ain't no place like home sweet home!"

Stepping lightly from the carriage, the partners followed their hosts up the wooden steps towards the front door, which opened on its own accord before they could bother with it themselves.

"Good evening, Miss Margaret. Miss Vivien," an elderly woman in an old fashioned black and white maid's outfit greeted kindly, allowing the four of them entry. "I see you have brought guests with you."

Catching a better glimpse of Mirika as they gaggled into the interior of the home, the maid's eyes grew wide in unease.

"Very…interesting... guests, I see," she tacked on beneath her breath, shaking her head disapprovingly as she shut the door, making the sign of the cross across her chest with a wrinkled hand.

"Oh, Abigail, you have no idea!" Miss Margaret said with a humorous laugh as she led the way deeper into the household. "This darlin' young man here is from the DWMA, and he's goin' to get to the bottom of all these terrible murders we've been havin'. He can't stay long, so we're goin' to have supper a lil' bit earlier than usual."

Rolling her eyes beneath her indigo bangs, Mirika just crossed her arms over her chest and held her tongue after the not-so-subtle snub.

"I'll let Miss Belle know that you have company then," the woman replied tiresomely before shuffling off into a side room.

Making their way deeper into the home, the partners were led down a hallway lined with old oil paintings of the coastal swamplands and portraits of who they assumed to be prior patriarchs and matriarchs of the Leigh household. Unlike the exterior of the residence, the interior of the home was fairly modernized with brass and crystal chandeliers and lacquered wood flooring that coincided with a well-to-do family from the south.

Following Miss Margaret and Miss Vivien's leads through the side wing of the manor, the hallway eventually gave way to an open room with a long, furnished dining table of a deep mahogany. Set against a large window that showed the sun beginning to set in the distance, the elder Leigh motioned for them to have a seat. Sniffing at the air, Shuvo could certainly tell that something delicious was being prepared for them.

"I sure hope you're hungry, darlin'," she said sweetly. "Miss Belle should have supper out in just a bit."

"Well I actually-"

As if on cue, a slender woman in her mid-thirties with black hair pulled up into a bun emerged out the swinging set of doors that led into the inner kitchen pushing a silver cart with several platters of succulent roast, potatoes, and greens. Moving methodically as though having practiced many times before, she was in the process of setting a platter before the monk before he stopped her kindly with a dismissing hand.

"None for me, thank you," he rejected politely. "I am not hungry, but I am grateful for the offer nonetheless."

Looking down upon the Weapon with a scrutinizing gaze, the woman's eyes shone something that Shuvo had never seen before. It was only for a fraction of a moment, but he was almost positive that but for a fleeting second her irises were a deep shade of crimson.

"Very well then," the woman replied with a semi-courteous monotone.

"Are you sure, hon? We've got plenty to go 'round," Miss Margaret wondered perplexedly.

"Eh, don't worry 'bout him," Mirika commented between chews, wasting no time herself as she dug into the free spread. "He's got this monk thing where he can only eat in the morning."

Visibly dejected, but not appearing offended, Miss Margaret dismissed the server and went to enjoying her own meal. Like Mirika, the elder Leigh was rather improper when it came to formal dining manners, digging into her roast, although she didn't devour it nearly as savagely as the Meister cattycorner to her. Vivien, on the other hand, was particularly reserved and refined in her etiquette, moving slowly with a lady-like grace that the monk particularly admired.

"That woman just now, would that by chance have been Miss Belle?" he asked, directing the question to Vivien.

"Yes, she's one of our housekeepers, but she is also our cook," the daughter replied casually.

"She certainly seems like a very good one," he replied with a smile. "How long has she been a servant of yours?"

From her place directly across from him, Miss Margaret let out a snorting laugh, washing down whatever she was chewing with a gulp of tea.

"Oh, we don't really use the word 'servant' anymore, hon," she explained light-heartedly. "That makes us seem so ol' fashioned. We like to call them 'helpers' now. But to answer your question, hon, I think Miss Belle's been here right 'round two or three months now."

"Two, Mama," Vivien corrected.

Nodding his head in understanding, Shuvo continued on with his questioning.

"So how many helpers do you employ right now?" he wondered curiously.

"Well right now it's just Mister James, Miss Belle, Miss Abigail, and our groundskeeper," Vivien replied. "We used to have a whole bunch of people a long time ago, but most of them went looking for work somewhere else after my grandfather passed away. It's alright though. We're still doin' alright for ourselves."

"It appears so," he confirmed.

Although he wished that they were not currently distracted from their mission, the remainder of the supper was surprisingly brisk, as Mirika wasted very little time in shoveling down the entrees. While normally he would have scolded her mildly for her poor manners, he supposed that it would be best not to seeing as how the sooner they could return to the task at hand, the better. Making good on her word that it would be quick, in less than five minutes the Meister had all but licked her plate spotless.

"Man that was good. My compliments to the chef," she said satedly, letting out a small unladylike burp of satisfaction much to the surprise and slight disapproval of their hosts. Not that in all honesty she really cared one way or another what they thought. Free food was free food, and that was all she really wanted out of this brief distraction besides completing the mission.

"Well we should probably get going now," she announced, dismissing herself from the table quickly before either Miss Margaret or Vivien had finished their own plates. "Would love to stay and chit-chat, but we've got to get back to work."

"Yes, we probably should be going," Shuvo confirmed.

"Aww, well that's a darn shame, but I know you said you're busy," Miss Margaret pouted, more in acknowledgement of the monk than Mirika. "Well how about whenever you're done with this Hannah Lecter ya come back by and I'll treat ya to a real southern feast."

"I would enjoy that very much," he replied kindly.

Rising from their seats, the Leighs escorted the N.O.T. students back through the manor wing to the front of the estate, following them out the front door and into the first hints of night. The laughing ball of sun had dipped over the horizon, bringing with it the faint chips of insects and the flickering glows of fireflies. Saying their quick parting goodbyes to their hospitable new acquaintances, the two partners set off down the dirt drive leading away from the house in search of their elusive target.

"Was it just me or did you happen to find that woman rather strange?" Shuvo questioned as they passed back beneath the drooping strands of moss.

"I wouldn't say strange, but she really was into you," Mirika replied, taking a precious moment to enjoy the bliss that came with a home cooked meal that she didn't have to pay for. "Wouldn't even give me the time of day."

"I did not mean Miss Margaret or Miss Vivien," Shuvo said. "I meant the cook, Miss Belle. There was something about her that just seemed out of place."

"What do you mean out of place?" she wondered.

"I am not sure, but I cannot help but be reminded of this old joke that I heard once about how you should never trust a skinny cook."

Letting out a snorting laugh, Mirika couldn't help but show her unabashed amusement in light of his suspicion.

"No offense, but that's not really much of a rock solid reason to go off of," she replied as they reached the end of the drive, turning down the conjoining street and heading away from the part of town they had already combed over.

"I know, but something just did not feel right with her," the monk said. "Perhaps my nerves are getting the better of me and I am jumping to irrational conclusions."

"Don't worry about it. Everyone gets the first time jitters. Honestly, I'm little on edge myself," she said, giving him a firm, somewhat comforting pat on the shoulder. "So what do you think? Wanna try your Soul Perception again and see if you can pick something up?"

"I can certainly try."

Stopping on the side of the road, Shuvo settled himself down comfortably into his meditative posture, closing his eyes so that he could embrace the stillness of the night and allow himself a proper setting through which to use his ability. Extending his Soul Perception out in a radius around him, he tuned out the myriad of smaller, less-significant souls of the swamp animals that glowed bright against the darkened expanse from behind his eyelids.

Shifting his focus around to cover the entire area of his perception, he could see the opaque blackness of his partner's soul beside him as well as the glowing blue souls of the residents of the Leigh household. There was one soul out back by the stables, most likely Mister James tending to the mare; one excitable soul still in the dining room, possibly Miss Margaret's; a tired soul in the parlor that belonged to the maid; and a younger, reserved soul on the second floor that was Miss Vivien.

"Mirika, something is wrong," he said worriedly with eyes still closed. "There is a soul missing in the Leigh house."

"What do you mean 'missing'?" she questioned uneasily, not at all liking the way he had just worded his statement.

"I can see everyone's souls except for Miss Belle's," he said, searching for any trace of the woman. "We only just left, so she could not have gotten outside of my range. It does not make any sen-… wait…something is happening."

It was nearly impossible to see, but he could spy a faint flicker of deep red light within the household, as though it were a tiny lightbulb that was beginning to short out. It floated throughout the lower level before moving up the antiquated stairs to the second level, moving slowly down the wing towards the room where Miss Vivien's soul was still glowing brightly.

"It is an evil soul!" he declared anxiously, eye's snapping wide in revelation. "I am not sure how, but it is in the house!"

"What the hell?! How?!" Mirika questioned in panic as her mind and body went into overdrive. "Is it Lecter?"

"I am not sure. It is very faint, so it is hard to tell."

"Who else could it be?! Dammit, there's no time! Let's go, Shuvo! Transform!"

Grabbing hold of the monk's hand as he burst against the darkness with a tangerine glow, the dual-eyed Meister's face turned down into an aggressive scowl of anger and determination as she took off full speed back down the drive that led to the manor. With gothic boots pounding heavily into the earth below, she swept the Weapon behind her as she took off after their target.

"Dammit, dammit, dammit!" she swore audibly as the dangling moss above them was swept along as she sped back to the house. "I can't believe I let my damn guard down! I shouldn't have let myself get distracted like that! "

"_You cannot worry about that,"_ Shuvo replied. _"We need to focus on the mission now." _

"Yeah, but how the hell did it get in the house?! We were literally just there!" she asked, seeing the outline of the residence emerge into her field of view.

"_I do not know, but something is not right here." _

Bum rushing down the drive, Mirika never skipped a beat as she charged straight up to the antiquated doors, using the heel of her heavy boot to drive them inwards off their hinges with a splintering crash.

"Where's it at, Shuvo?!" she questioned with a snarl, putting her head on a swivel as she stood at the ready with Weapon in hand.

"_It is on the second floor." _

Storming up the flight of stairs that led to the second level, the size of the hallway offered the duo no reprieve as the Meister struggled momentarily to fit the eight foot long khakkhara through the narrow confines.

"_Down this hallway and to the left,"_ Shuvo instructed frantically, hoping that they could get to their target before it got to Miss Vivien. _"It is in the room at the end of this hallway. Hurry, Mirika!" _

"I'm going as fast as I freakin' can!" she shouted, not seeing any sign of the kishin egg as she followed her partner's navigations. Raising her boot once more, she barreled full force into the wooden door at the end of the hallway, sending it flying across the room within with all the fury she could muster.

Rushing hurriedly into the room, Shuvo and Mirika found the interior to be painted a gaudy pale yellow with shelves filled with stuffed animals, beauty pageant trophies and sashes, and photographs in frames. Beside the large window at the rear of the room, they saw Vivien alive and well, albeit scared senseless by their reckless intrusion, with Miss Belle seated behind her in the process of combing the young teen's dark locks.

"What on earth are you doin'?!" she questioned with visible shock plastered on her features, rising from her chair. "Haven't ya'll ever heard of knockin'?! And didn't ya'll just leave?!"

Her frantic questioning fell on deaf ears as Mirika gazed in her direction with a piercing gleam; her brown and blue irises training not on the young southerner, but the housekeeper directly behind her.

"You sure that's her, Shuvo?" the Meister questioned lowly, her grip tightening around the monk staff that she held awkwardly within the confines of the room.

From within his Weapon form, Shuvo was having difficulty deciphering the soul in front of him. It was unlike he had ever seen before, in both appearance and mannerism. It was as though someone were throwing a switch, causing the crimson red soul of tainted evil to flicker in and out of existence.

"_That is her," _he confirmed with a nod, giving his Meister all the go ahead she needed.

"We've been looking all day trying to find you, Hannah Lecter," Mirika stated accusingly, training the short daggered tip of the monk staff at the older woman's face. "Your soul has become corrupt and we're here to take it in the name of Lord Death. We can do this the easy way or the hard way; your choice."

Blinking in obvious confusion, Vivien looked from the two N.O.T. students to Miss Belle and then back again, trying to comprehend just what in the world the girl was saying.

"There must be some sort of mistake," she said hesitantly, stepping between them as she tried to wrap her mind around the sudden accusation. "Miss Belle's just our housekeeper. She's never done anythin' wrong."

"She's an evil human who's killed at least two people for their souls and eaten their corpses," Mirika hissed. "She's a cannibal. Now get out of the way so I can kill her."

Flabbergasted by what the Meister had just revealed, Vivien found herself suddenly petrified and her body paralyzed from fright. Managing to swing her head around to the woman she thought she knew as her mild-mannered chef, Miss Belle only looked at the three teenagers with a flat, blank stare in light of the charges brought against her.

"You're quite the rude little girl, aren't you?" Miss Belle stated calmly, her demeanor entirely unfazed as she spoke. "Barging into a young lady's quarters unannounced and making threats. And on top of that your manners at supper this evening were simply atrocious. Some of the worst I've ever seen."

"And if there's anything in this world that I hate above all others, its rudeness. However, I suppose I should expect as much from one of Lord Death's orderlies," she finished maliciously, her eyes beginning to glow a bright blood red hue.

From within his Weapon form, Shuvo felt the evil soul make its true nature known before he ever saw her physical appearance change. Although he didn't have his Soul Perception activated, he could feel the cascading waves of evil radiating from the woman as she ripped her maid's outfit from her body, revealing a short white dress covered in leather straps that flopped around in close resemblance to a straight jacket. Printed in black across the left breast of the dress were the words "PSYCHE WARD" while the sleeves of the garment were long and loose, flowing well over her hands. The bun atop her head, too, had come undone, casting her long strands of black hair wildly across her face.

"_Miss Vivien, get away from her!" _he pleaded, but the girl was frozen stiff in terror.

Growling in frustration at their current situation, Mirika found herself unable to get in any kind of position to make a move on the target with the stupefied girl standing between her and her kill. And too her dismay, Shuvo's khakkhara form was doing nothing to help the situation, not that he could help that. The sheer length of the Weapon made it difficult to maneuver in tight quarters, meaning that at the moment she was limited to holding it out in front of her like a pike and trying to make long, easily deterred thrusts with the dagger.

"Get out of the way dumbass!" she repeated with eyes piercing past the teen and into Miss Belle.

Quickly losing patience for this charade, the agitated Meister chose to strike first, sidestepping around the hindering girl so she could try to get a thrust in.

Brandishing a large cleaver from the depths of her sleeve, the kishin egg reached out and took hold of the petrified Vivien, bringing her in close as she held the blade up against her neck, forcing Mirika to stop in her lunge mere inches from the terrified girl's face.

"Tisk-tisk-tisk. The Reaper should really learn to mind his own affairs and stay out of other people's kitchens," the truly revealed Hannah Belle Lecter announced with a calm, sinister tone; her teeth having grown sharp and serrated. "Now because of your insolence I'm going to have to find a new venue with which to cater to my particular palate."

Feeling the razor-sharp edge of the butcher's instrument sinking easily into the tender side of her jugular, Vivien let out a frightened whimper as she suddenly found herself taken hostage by her own trusted helper.

"Y-you were goin' to eat us? W-why?" she squeaked in terror, swearing she could feel the faintest trickle of blood begin to work its way down to her collarbone.

"Oh, it's nothing personal my dear Miss Vivien," Lecter stated collectedly, dipping her head down so that her nose was near the faint trail of crimson that moved down the girl's neck. Snaking her tongue out from out between her sharpened canines, she gave a long, savoring lick of the essence. "I just couldn't seem to help myself. Your flesh is just so succulent and tender; it's simply irresistible. I was really hoping to let you mature a little bit longer, but as you can see my situation has changed. Obviously I can't stay here anymore, but that doesn't mean I won't get my fill before I go."

Trying to analyze their predicament quickly and effectively, Shuvo was at a complete loss for what to do in this particular situation. Sure, Mister Sid and Mister Harvar had taught them plenty when it came to combating evil souls, but never before had he ever come face to face with one before. He felt himself shaking from apprehension; trickles of sweat rolling down his forehead as he searched for a way out of this standoff, but failed to do so. He couldn't even collect himself long enough to. His mind was running rampant and his breath was hitching in his chest. Nothing in their training had prepared them for this.

His inner cogitation, however, was interrupted by the sound of labored breathing and the pounding of heavy footsteps thumping against the wooden floor from behind them. Coming up quickly from the rear, Miss Margaret burst into the room with face flushed red, having heard the commotion of breaking wood from her spot at the dining room table.

"Oh my heavens!" she swooned as soon as she saw the sight of her daughter in the clutches of the strange woman who looked like a gruesome version of Miss Belle. Feeling light in the head, she somehow managed to not crack her skull on the hardwood floor as her knees gave out from under her.

"Mama!" Vivien screamed, finding her voice as tears began to well in her eyes.

"That's right, Miss Leigh, just stay right there," Lecter said to the fainted woman. "I'll come back for you as soon as I finish up with these rats in my kitchen. I'd certainly love for you to come join your daughter for dinner."

Chuckling sadistically to herself, Lecter unwittingly allotted Mirika just a split second to catch her with her guard down. Dropping her khakkhara onto the floor because it would hinder her movements, the overly-aggressive Meister had had enough of the kishin egg's banter, barreling the short distance across the room and slamming headlong into Vivien and Lecter. Surprised by the ambush, the cannibal stumbled backwards with a resounding crash against the rear window as all three of the women were thrown out the second story into the night in a rain of shattered glass.

"_Mirika!" _Shuvo cried, quickly coming out of his Weapon form and rushing to the windowsill. Stepping over the little razor-sharp pieces of glass that lined the floor, he looked out the gaping hole into the cool of the night expecting the worst.

From his vantage point he saw Vivien cast off to the side of the sprawling garden below, lying in a patch of flowers. An audible groan told him that she was probably shaken up from the fall, but nonetheless conscious.

"Shuvo!"

Peering down and to the right, Mirika's shout led him to find her and Lecter locked in a struggling tussle, rolling about on the grass as they struggled for dominance. The Meister's left hand was clenched around the kishin egg's right wrist, trying to keep the butcher's cleaver from coming down and splitting her head in two, while her right hand clawed and punched at Lecter's face defiantly.

"I could really use some help here dammit!" she shouted upwards, waiting for the moment when her Weapon would come to her aid. Fresh trails of crimson seeped down her legs and across her face from her lacerations, dripping into small pools and staining her striped shirt and one stocking.

Not needing to be told again, Shuvo ignored the sting of the glass crunching beneath his bare feet as he silently hoped he knew what he was doing. Jumping from the second floor, he flashed bright against the darkness as he once more took his khakkhara form, spinning midair as the foot end of his monk staff landed upright in the soft grass below a meter away from the brawl, sinking into the earth to keep him upright.

Throwing all of her weight backwards, Mirika bucked the pre-kishin off of the top of her, tossing the cannibalistic woman just far enough to give her a moment to get to her feet and retrieve her partner. Now that they were out in the open again and she had her Weapon in hand, the stage was set just the way the Meister wanted it.

A content, almost sadistic smirk of satisfaction crept across her black-painted lips.

"Are we ready to stop playing now?" she questioned with a snarky tongue.

"It wasn't my intention to duel one of the Reaper's orderlies head on. Frankly I'm not much of a fighter, but I would advise you not to test me, little girl," Lecter warned icily, the long sleeve of her dress fluttering ever-so slightly as she held her cleaver at the ready. "A census taker tried to test me once. I ate his liver over wild rice and a nice Cabernet Sauvignon."

"I prefer a burger and chocolate shake personally."

"Such an unrefined-"

A sharp whiz preceded the echoing crack of a gunshot that cut Lecter's sentence off, missing the woman by mere inches as it sliced through a few strands of hair and nothing more. Surprising both kishin egg and N.O.T. student, they whirled around to see the carriage driver, Mister James, standing nearby with a rifle shaking in his hands.

"Vile demon!" the older man cried, fumbling to cock the bolt of his rifle back to chamber another round. "I always knew there wasn't something right about you! Go back to hell where you belo-!"

The edge of the cleaver whirling through the air and embedding itself between the rambling man's eyes silenced the intrusion with gruesome swiftness; the crimson of his blood staining the grass below as he slumped awkwardly to the ground.

"It's rude to interrupt when two ladies are talking, Mister James," Lecter stated simply, as though they were at a dinner party and she were scolding him mildly. "Now what am I supposed to do with you? I can't have you over for dinner that's for certain. You absolutely reek of manure and sweat."

Vivien's shrill scream of horrification echoed out as thick wells of tears streamed down her cheeks. Turning away from the gore, she buried her face in her hands, sobbing profusely as she muttered repeatedly to herself, trying in vain to wish it all away.

"_Is he…?" _Shuvo questioned shakily as he cupped a hand over his mouth, wanting to look away from the scene, but finding himself unable to. Silently he was thankful that he had not had anything to eat, as it would most likely have come back up in the most violent of fashions.

"He's dead," Mirika stated simply, not even glancing over at the body to confirm as she tightened her grip around the khakkhara. "Nothing we can do about it, so I need you to stay focused here. We're just getting started."

Was this the property of the Blackbird soul that Professor Craftlove had tried to explain to them before, Shuvo wondered? Was this the resistance to corruption that allowed Mirika to view death and macabre so easily without becoming engulfed by the madness that followed? Here he was, in utter shock of what had transpired, his only saving grace his own strong soul, yet she appeared entirely unperturbed by the ordeal. At least that was how it looked on the outside.

"Hannah Lecter! Your soul is mine!" she roared, taking off after the psychotic target now that she had thrown away her blade.

Undeterred, Lecter's hands retreated momentarily into the depths of her straight jacket sleeves, producing two large knives.

"You're very frank, little girl. I think it would be quite something to know you in a private life," she stated, meeting the Meister in the middle in a clash of wills.

Gripping the khakkhara at its center, Mirika used the staff in a dual-ended fashion, utilizing both halves of the Weapon to parry Lecter's slashes and thrusts. The way the kishin egg was attacking her was much akin to her personality; calculating and precise, but with an aggressiveness that wasn't overbearing. It seemed as though for every three or four strikes the Meister would launch at the cannibal, Lecter would only counter with one of her own. She had been correct when she said she was not one for fighting, but she was holding her own quite well nevertheless as she sidestepped and dodged the rookie student's attacks.

Rearing back, Lecter went on the offensive as she snapped the loose sleeve of her dress at her foe, cracking the multitude of leather restraining belts out like a hydra of whips. Extending in length, the belts wrapped around the khakkhara, ensnaring it in their clutches as the kishin egg attempted to rip the Weapon away.

"Dammit, let go of him!" Mirika snarled, digging her heels into the soft grass as she wrestled for control of the monk staff, surprised at just how strong the lowly D-ranked woman actually was.

"As you wish," Lecter said, releasing her hold obediently, causing the Meister to subsequently stumble backwards from the sudden shift in momentum. Rushing in, she brought both knives to bear as she slashed one on either side of the gothic girl.

Managing to regain her balance, Mirika barely had time to react as Lecter came charging in, raising her lengthy Weapon defensively just in time to deflect the knife in her right hand, but was unable to dodge the one in her left. The comprehension that she had been sliced didn't hit her at first due to her rising adrenaline, but sure enough seconds later the sting of the blade setting her nerves alight and the telltale sight of blood staining the front of her shirt hit home as she let out a hiss of pain. Clenching her front, the laceration was just below her breasts, but didn't seem too deep; or at the very least not fatal.

"_Mirika! Are you alright?!" _Shuvo questioned frantically, but a snarling grunt was all the answer he received.

"I warned you not to test me, little girl," Lecter stated icily, raising the knife to her tongue, savoring the flavor as she gave a lick across the length of the edge. "Your blood is dark and rich, but very bitter. Like a good Amarone. It'll go well with Miss Vivien."

Even without using his Soul Perception to see for himself, Shuvo could feel the flames of her Blackbird soul rising rapidly; anger, aggression, and determination coursing through her soul wavelength and crashing into his own in rhythmic waves. It was in that moment that he instinctively knew that she was about to go off like a Harvest Festival firework.

"Don't screw with me!" Mirika spat, fighting through her injury as she brought Shuvo to the ready again. Gripping the middle of the staff, she began to spin the Weapon between her hands as she charged back into the fray with a furious roar of defiance, twirling at such a speed that it was all but a blur against the darkness. Striking with both ends, little by little she forced Lecter to retreat from the relentless assault, never allowing the kishin egg a moment's rest as the psychopath used her two knives to defend herself.

In a surprise tactic, the Meister let go of the center of the staff, lengthening the range of her attack as she gripped the foot end and swung diagonally upwards, connecting Shuvo's outer brass rings across the side of Lecter's face with a crunch, causing her to stagger to the side. Recovering with astonishing resilience, the woman shook off the blow and came right back at her with knives thrust outward. Sidestepping the attack, Mirika allowed Lecter's right forearm to pass between the gap in Shuvo's rings and promptly twisted the shaft, breaking her wrist in half with a sickening snap. Releasing her knife with a blood-curling scream, Lecter was now down to just one good arm, but she nevertheless fought on with a retaliatory slash from her left hand that barely missed its mark.

"_Mirika, she is injured. We need to end this quickly,"_ Shuvo remarked, feeling the edge of Lecter's knife clash against his Weapon form again.

"Yeah, I was just thinking the same thing," the Meister confirmed, deflecting another attack.

Utilizing the length of the khakkhara to keep Lecter at bay, Mirika took a few tactical steps back in retreat, feeling the rush of whirlwind beginning to form beneath her feet.

"Let's go, Shuvo! Soul Resonance!" she shouted as tendrils of her Blackbird soul reached out to entwine themselves with those of his own, sparking in ignition. Roaring in resolution, the iridescent aura of light surrounded the khakkhara as the process shattered with a mighty pulse of soul wavelength that rocked the garden.

"Eat this, Lecter!"

Rapidly closing the distance between them, Mirika unleash a flurry of strikes with the glowing staff with blinding speed, driving the woman back with each connection into her body. Releasing pulses of her soul wavelength into Lecter's body with each blow, the kishin egg was left completely defenseless as she dropped her only means of attack, staggering blindly about as the illuminated rings pummeled her with unprecedented viciousness.

Rearing her fist back, the Meister connected squarely into Lecter's gut, sending her flying through the air, stopping only when she struck the dense wood of a nearby cypress tree. Cratered against the wood, she only had enough strength to wheeze with painful labored breaths as she lifted her head up to gaze at the teens who had defeated her.

"Such a…enthralling little girl," she managed to mutter at barely above a whisper, smiling a devilish smirk as a wave of brilliant white and indigo filled her sight.

"Astralight!" Mirika roared, slamming the luminous rings into the ground, watching as the resonance attack rocketed out and collided headlong into the kishin egg, disintegrating her in a brilliant display. It wasn't as destructive of an attack as if Shuvo had combined his Soul Gate, but the glowing crimson ball of tainted soul that floated easily above the ground was indication enough that they had completed their first mission and claimed their first soul.

Flashing orange, Shuo reverted back to his human form, but didn't immediately go towards their reward. Rather, he did what any good Weapon would do and inspected the state of his Meister.

"You are injured," he observed, seeing how almost the entire front of her black and blue striped shirt was stained. "We need to get you to a hospital."

"It's nothing," she stated, grimacing as the sting of the laceration started to come in stronger and stronger waves now that her adrenaline was beginning to subside. "Let's just report in to Lord Death and go home."

"It is most certainly not nothing," the monk countered firmly, trying to get a better glimpse of her injury in the darkness. "Let me see it so I can help."

"It's nothing," she repeated, wrapping an arm over her wound and turning away, but the hiss that she released from pressing on the tender area defied her. "I'll take care of it later. Let's get the soul and get home."

"Not until you are taken care of first," Shuvo reaffirmed, unwavering in his insistence to tend to his partner before anything else.

Sighing in conceit, Mirika shrugged her black leather jacket off of her shoulders, letting it pool on the grass. Reaching down, she grabbed the hem of her shirt and began to lift it up before stopping just above her navel.

"Not a word about this to anyone, especially Remmy," she ordered, but it appeared the monk was more concerned with her health than anything else. Pulling the stained cotton shirt over her head, she tossed the garment to the side and looked down to inspect herself. Indeed, Lecter's knife had caught her just below her black bra and the wound, while not terribly deep, was still oozing a steady flow of red down her abdomen.

"Lie back," Shuvo instructed, and she complied without complaint. Going back over to the part of the garden where Miss Vivien was still huddled in a protective ball, he was able to get her to her feet after several moments of coddling and escorted her back inside the house where she went to search for first aid bandages.

With assistance on the way, the monk could finally begin to breathe somewhat easy as he settled himself back beside his Meister.

"What a screwed up day this has been," she commented humorously, a smile creeping across her face.

"Do you think that it is always going to be like this?" he questioned in return.

"Pretty much," she replied, doing nothing for his confidence. "It's part of what we do. Thieves…murderers…psychopaths…it's all in a day's work for us. But we'll get better. For our first time I don't think we did too bad. Plus I did get a cool battle scar out of it and you got your first soul."

Raising her hand in that same strange gesture she always used, she flashed the sign up casually with a smile.

"Good job today, partner."

Forcing a smile of his own, Shuvo copied the gesture, extending his pinky and index fingers out in return.

"Good job to you as well."

* * *

**A/N: Its been a long time coming, but we finally got around to Mirika and Shuvo's first mission. Man that feels good to say. I'm so glad to have this one done. Its my longest chapter to date and frankly one of my favorites I've ever done. I wish I could have gotten it to ya'll before Christmas, but family, friends, and work unfortunately had to come beforehand. **

**So a couple of fun side notes for you. I've been dwelling on this for a long, long time now, but I want each of my OCs to have their own battle theme. I'm still coming up with some of them, but the undisputed battle theme for Mirika is "Absolute Zero" by Stone Sour. The lyrics and energy absolutely encompass her personality so perfectly it makes me all giddy inside. Give it a listen if you have a few minutes. **

**Also, many of you probably don't know this, but Savannah, Georgia was the filming location for one of my all time favorite movies, "Forrest Gump". You can actually go sit on the same park bench that Tom Hanks did in the park in the city square. So I just had to throw that little tidbit in there for fun. **

**And that's really all I have to say about that. Please keep reading and supporting. Be safe and I'll see you in 2016!**

**K.K. **


	20. And the Sun Will Rise Again

Chapter 20: And the Sun Will Rise Again: Sleep Soundly While You Can?

The clock over the kitchen sink had barely struck the noon hour when the faint clicking of a turning key and undoing of the lock broke the otherwise tranquil stillness of the modest two-person apartment. Creaking audibly as the door swung inwards upon its hinges, audible sighs of relief came forth from both Meister and Weapon as they made their way through the entryway.

"Well that was a waste of time," Mirika huffed as she shrugged off her jacket carelessly onto the floor and plopped down on the couch. "I can't believe we went all the way to England just for that."

Rolling his eyes at her haphazardly discarded coat, Shuvo picked it up with the right mind to chastise her about leaving her clothes lying around, but quickly dismissed it. Placing it over the back of a chair, he sat down on the floor beside her, resting his back against the cushion of the couch.

"Well we did complete our mission, so it was not all a waste," he reminded her gently. Their latest trek had taken them just to the outskirts of London where a D-ranked kishin egg named The Headmaster was brainwashing schoolchildren into carrying out anarchist crimes on his behalf. It hadn't taken but a few hours for them to track down and dispose of the less than gentlemanly leader, marking their eighth soul in about four weeks. After getting stitched up from their bout with Hannah Belle Lecter, it hadn't taken but two days before his partner was back to normal and on the hunt for a new mission.

"Even still, fighting that guy was like fighting a wet noodle," she lightheartedly griped, kicking off her boots unceremoniously and propping her feet up on the coffee table. "But I guess I shouldn't complain. We're making good pace on these corrupt souls and a win is a win anyway you slice it. We're gonna make E.A.T. in no time if we keep this up."

With time going by rather rapidly, the semester was quickly coming to an end before the Academy would be off for a short winter break, and Mirika was adamant about getting as many assignments as they possibly could before then. Not that a winter break would stop her, he deduced. She would probably have them keep right at it until they hit their short-term goal of twenty-five souls so they could apply for eligibility into the E.A.T. course the following year. At the rate they were currently going they were sure to reach that point by the following spring.

"Actually, I have been meaning to talk to you about that," Shuvo remarked. "I know you are excited we can go on missions now, but can we take a small break before our next one? We have been missing a good amount of class lately and we still have the Ultimate Written Exam to study for next week."

"Argh, don't remind me," Mirika groaned at the unpleasant memo. "Fine, I guess we can put the missions on hold for now; at least until after the test."

"I believe that is the best decision. I have heard the Ultimate Written Exam is very strenuous, so we should use our time wisely to make sure we get a good grade."

"Meh, it's not too bad for the N.O.T. class; just the basics after all," she replied dismissively, subtly reminding the both of them that this wasn't her first time though the course. "From what I've heard, Stein's test in the E.A.T. class is the real one to watch out for. Supposedly it made some kid have a complete mental breakdown last year."

"I am still going to make sure that we study thoroughly anyways," Shuvo reaffirmed, letting her know that she was not about to get away with slacking off on her academics just because she believed that she knew the material. If she was that sure of herself then she should have no issue answering the practice questions when they reviewed for the test.

"Fine," she droned exhaustively, knowing full well that when it came to matters of the classroom Shuvo didn't kid around. His combination of good grades, perfect attendance, and participation points had him sitting near the top of their class, although she also supposed that his good standing with Craftlove didn't exactly hurt either.

Kicking her feet off the coffee table, Mirika stood up and made her way towards her room, where she grabbed a fresh pair of clothes and a towel.

"I'm gonna hop in the shower," she announced offhandedly, feeling a little grimy after their recent overseas mission. Not that she had worked up a major sweat or anything fighting The Headmaster, but sometimes it just felt rejuvenating to let the hot water work its magic.

"Take your time," Shuvo replied, hearing the door close and the lock click. Utilizing the momentary solitude as his Meister tended to herself, Shuvo shuffled around to the small bookshelf that housed his partner's vast collection of vinyls and CDs, sifting through their meticulous organization before finding the one he was searching for. Pulling the black album from its sleeve, he placed it gingerly in the turntable and set the needle. Sprawling out onto the floor, he basked in the warmth of the sunlight that filtered in through the windows and emptied his mind to allow the soft ambiance of a piano and chiming bell take him on a pleasant transcendent journey.

It was rather humorous for him to believe that if his past self could see him blatantly breaking a Precept by listening to music rather than engaging in his meditations, he would most likely have given himself a stern scolding. However, he had come to find that music in itself, at least certain parts, was almost meditative in its harmonic flow, permitting him a medium through which he could cleanse his soul and delve into his introspective musings. While he did still do his daily meditative practices in the mornings and nights, he also found through trial and error certain albums in Mirika's collection that seemed to almost speak to him on a deeper level. While he had no particular fondness or understanding of the styles of rock and metal his partner seemed to relate with, he did find himself rather enjoying certain bits and pieces of what Mirika called "prog rock". When he allotted himself the treat of listening, it was almost always one of the albums of that genre in her collection that he gravitated towards.

Closing his eyes, he placed his hands behind his head and embraced the ambient, ethereal sensation that came from the speakers. Perhaps he didn't realize just how tired he truly was, or perhaps he just became, as Mirika would say, "lost in the music", but soon the sound faded into obscurity as his chest rose and fell in a tranquil rhythm.

Slipping into the black, he opened his eyes to find himself no longer in their apartment's living room, but rather the all familiar place beneath the vibrant canopy of peach blossoms and the morbid, chuckling crescent moon casting its light down upon him. No longer did the music of the turntable engulf his senses, cancelled out now by the undisturbed tranquility of the blackened starry night.

Shifting and contorting from the crystal stream that ran before him, the lithe figure without a face that had come to make a home of the lucid phantasm made its presence known before the monk, blocking out the light of the moon as it stood erect upon the flowing water's surface.

"Namaste, Proxy," Shuvo greeted kindly, not knowing how or necessarily why he knew that to be the entity's name, but understanding that to be it nevertheless.

Striding forth with lengthy steps, Proxy made its way towards the shoreline, dripping reflections of the eternal dreamscape in its wake as it walked along. Coming ashore, it halted in its progression just before the blossomed tree, staring down with voided expression into the young man's chocolate irises.

"Proxy…that is your name, correct?" he questioned to the imposing entity with a tinge of wariness. He didn't know how to necessarily describe it, but while the figure was not necessarily unwelcome within his place of inception, he could not help but feel something in the air around it that made him anxious.

Nodding its onyx head in confirmation to the question, Proxy raised a slender, lengthy arm that dripped of ink and pointed a finger at the boy.

"Shuvo," it said with a muffled, near indecipherable voice that sounded as though it were speaking underwater.

"Yes, that is my name," the monk replied, gazing up still to the entity that cast its silhouette against the sky. What followed was a moment of uncertain silence, neither of the two moving or saying anything as only the trickle and soft splash of running water filled the air.

"If you do not mind me asking, why are you here?" Shuvo at long last questioned with equal parts curiosity and uncertainty. "I feel as though I have met you before, but I am not sure where. Where have you come from?"

No reply came from the enigmatic entity as it only continued to stare, or what the Weapon assumed was stare, back upon him as it loomed in a most perplexing manner.

"You have…been here before," he remembered vaguely, straining to understand just where they were. "Here in this place…but this is just a dream. You have… been in my dreams before."

The statement that filtered out the young man's mouth was not so much one of assurance, but of self-questioning. Was this reality or was it merely just an abstract construction of his own subconscious design? There was the familiar peach tree that he was seated under, along with the crystal stream that trickled down the mountainside. Along with these there was also the ever-wicked moon, bright with a yellow lux as it moved in time to each throaty chuckle.

Was not the moon black now though?

He wracked his mind around these questions, trying to decipher just for himself in light of still having not yet received any form of answer from Proxy, who continued to stay still as stone as it allowed the boy to wrestle with his existential conundrum.

"Yes…this is a dream. I understand that now," he concluded definitively to himself. "But now I have to ask again, why are you here, Proxy?"

His directed tone was neither stern nor begging in nature, but rather one of stoic wishing for the answer he sought. Whatever it was about the pretense of the question that was different than before he didn't know, but the figure at last moved in response to his inquiry. Reaching down with lithe appendages, the fingers of the entity wrapped themselves gently over his hairless temples and its thumb pressed itself between his eyes. Sending a pulse of soul wavelength into the befuddled monk, the rhythmic waves rippled against his own to send the phantasm deeper into its own fold. Like a heavenly blanket had been cast over the moon, the nightly dreamscape that he had resided in disappeared in the blink of an eye, engulfing him in a vast, eternal darkness that surrounded him on all sides. The closest sensation he could come to describe it was when he was in his khakkhara form, but there was no partner wavelength to resonate with.

Looking around the hollow emptiness, Shuvo held his hand up before him, confirming that he indeed could see himself, now begging to wonder where the world before him had gone.

"Proxy?" he called out, hearing nothing in return in the ways of response, not even an echo. Perplexed by what sort of deed the unknown entity had done, he merely sat in the stillness with an air of uncertainty about him, hoping that the answer to what he had asked would come.

"Got you!" a giggling voice yelled out from behind, startling him in its shriek.

"No you didn't!" the voice of a young boy rose out in protest.

"Did too!"

Whirling about, Shuvo was surprised to see that the world to his back was no longer one of darkness, but of a brightly sunny scene depicting a schoolyard filled with young, laughing children. Running about gaily around the playground, the myriad of innocent-eyed boys and girls chased one another about in games of tag, swung from sets of swings, or dangled precariously upon metal junglegyms. Their ages varied, but he concluded that for the most part the majority of them were around the average of five to seven and filled to the brim with spirit and youthful energy.

Standing up, he walked with a sense of wonderment towards the boundary between the blackness and the grass that seemed to sprout out from absolutely nothing. Stepping lightly past the border of darkness, he entered the shining vision with a curious caution, looking about him to try to decipher just what it was he was seeing. The children running past him seemed to either not see him or paid him no mind as he wandered aimlessly amongst the rowdiness, unsure of exactly what it was he was supposed to be seeing besides the blatantly obvious.

Passing by a tall oak that cast a pleasant shade beneath its canopy, Shuvo spied a group of young girls in dresses sitting in the cool grass with an assortment of stuffed dolls that they were in the process of accessorizing. Combing their fake hair or outfitting them in small dresses of various pastel colors, the girls hummed and smiled innocently as they played pretend. Turning back, the monk was just about to keep moving through the scene when something rather peculiar caught his eye. He wasn't entirely certain what it was, but upon a second look he felt a luring connection to the scene before him.

Approaching the clique of girls with a slight hint of reservation, a child with a head of light brown hair tied into a short ponytail made her presence known, causing the laughing cluster to die down almost immediately. Clad in a white dress with thin horizontal indigo stripes and a frilly black bow around her neck, the hesitant girl clutched an oddly peculiar stuffed animal that looked like a skeletal dog close to her chest. The toy had no real features to speak of, but rather two Xs stitched into the material for eyes and a jagged line running along the snout that made it look like the pup had had its mouth stitched shut by Professor Stein.

"What do _you_ want?" a curly redheaded girl in the group questioned harshly, glaring at the newcomer along with the rest of the circle.

From her position just outside the shade of the oak, the young brunette took a few steps closer as she looked down at the ground shyly, a tint of pink flushing her cheeks at her classmate's cold greeting.

"I- I was just wondering if I could play with you too?" she questioned shakily, but with a sincere smile. Holding up the skeletal canine in front of her proudly, she presented her doll for the others to see. "I even brought my stuffed doggy with me. His name is Gibby."

Raising quizzical, offput brows, the group of girls looked around at one another, silently analyzing and judging the request.

"Eww, no way!" the little redheaded girl replied with disgust, hiding her own doll behind her as though it might become infested by imaginary fleas. "Get it away from us!"

Lowering the toy dispiritedly, her fragile smile waned dejectedly at the harsh comment.

"Why? What's wrong with Gibby?" the girl questioned defensively, clutching the stuffed animal closer to her with motherly protection.

"It's creepy," one of the other members of the coterie replied uneasily, following her friend's lead and moving her doll further away.

"Yeah, it's weird," another chimed into the mix. "Who would want a stuffed animal of a dead dog?"

"Obviously Freaky Miri would," the ginger teased cruelly with a scoffing laugh, encouraging her entourage to persist with their taunting.

Declining her head with crestfallen hopes, the little brunette took a timid step back at each detrimental word that flowed from the gaggle of girls that called her and the toy a myriad of sophomoric slanders and childish names with pointed fingers.

"Shut up. Just shut up," she protested weakly, holding the dog close to her as she slowly retreated, small trickles of tears beginning to run their way down her flustered cheeks. "He-He's not creepy. He's my friend."

From just off to the side, Shuvo observed the unfolding dreamscape quietly with an aching, empathetic heart. He wished to step in and put an end to the girls' hurtful ways, but it was plain to see that his intrusion into the scene would do nothing to stop its progression, as the girls should have already noticed him watching them if this were indeed reality.

Taking sadistic advantage of the waterworks that were beginning to flow, the group circled around the pariah threateningly, enclosing her in a wall of bodies that only furthered her torment.

"Oh look, I think Freaky Miri's gonna cry," the ringleader mocked with a baby-like tone. "Is that it? Is the lil' baby gonna cry cause I hurt her feelings?"

"Shut- Shut up," the girl managed to force between sniffles, fighting back the tears that came from the undeserving ridicule she had found herself the target of. "Why are you being so mean?"

"Cause we don't wanna be friends with a weirdo like you."

Reaching out swiftly, the taunting redhead took hold of the stuffed animal, ripping it forcefully from the girl's protection despite her protesting struggle.

"No! Give him back!" came a shrill cry as the owner lunged feebly for her toy, but was helplessly pushed to the ground by one of the other girls that formed the ring around her. "Give me Gibby back right now!"

Holding the skeletal canine in her hands, the ginger scrutinized it with a look up repugnance and wondering why anyone would want something as disturbing as it as a pretend friend. Disgusted by the mere sight of the thing, she strode a ways away from the circle and without a word slung the stuffed animal upwards towards the top of the canopy of the oak, entangling it in the thick of the branches far out of any of their reaches.

"No!" the onlooking girl shrieked in horror.

Looking on powerlessly to assist the little girl in any way, Shuvo took pity on both parties of the altercation; the victim for having to endure such needless bullying, and the instigators for having to transgress their own pain onto another. But as he continued to watch the vision intensely, his heart sunk to a newfound low when he saw the girl gaze upwards from her place on the ground and her bangs of brunette hair fell down and away from her face.

Welled with tears that steadily streamed their way down her reddened cheeks, he noticed her distraught eyes; one of light umber and the one of pale blue that trembled in distress.

"Mirika…" Shuvo said softly in sympathetic realization of the situation. He didn't know how or why, but somehow Proxy was showing him one of his Meister's troubled memories. Deep down he yearned to be able do something to dry her younger self's tears and calm her aching heart, but sadly he could only watch on as his partner stared up helplessly at her precious possession that had been cruelly stolen and mistreated.

Sensing the return of the foreign presence, he knew that Proxy had once again manifested itself within this intemporal realm as a long, lanky shadow was cast over him. .

"I am sorry I could not have been there for her," he stated with a heavy heart, casting his gaze down to the earth below rather than turning to face either his sobbing Meister or the enigmatic entity. "Is this what it was like in her childhood?"

Remaining still, the blackened figure made no indication of producing anything resembling a response, although Shuvo expected as much.

"Sometimes I do not understand the reason why we hurt one another, especially over insignificant differences," he said with lament, moreso to himself than to Proxy. "I understand that we cannot get along with everyone, but do we have to push another down in order to lift ourselves up?"

Seeing the shadow extending over him move to the side, Shuvo turned around to see Proxy returning from the colored memory and striding with lengthened steps back into the blackened phantasm from which they had entered. Not knowing whether he should follow the figure or stay to see what became of the rest of the vision, he caved in and followed the entity back into the darkness. Looking behind him, the image of the little dual-eyed girl sitting upon the sunny grass sobbing in sorrow was permanently burned into his psyche as he made his way out of the memory. Pushing the heaviness that filled his heart aside for the time being, he broke into a quickened pace to fall in line with the retreating being.

"How did you learn this about Mirika?" the monk inquired, moving four or five steps for every one of Proxy's. Turning his head to gaze upwards at the voided face that dripped of blackened ink, he tried his best to see into eyes that did not exist.

"What are you, Proxy?" he questioned with frank wonderment.

Coming to a halt, the figure turned to stand tall and erect before the Weapon, tilting its head down only slightly as it too gazed back upon his inquirer with an indecipherable expression. Several moments passed by where the two merely stared into one another, trying to unravel the intriguing mystery that surrounded the other.

And then at long last, for the first time during the monk's decent into the inner folds of his own dreamscape, Proxy offered up an answer, speaking with a low timbre as though it were an echo beneath an invisible sea.

"I am," it said simply.

Feeling the phantasm collapse around him, sensation once more enveloped the young man's body, rushing him out of the blackness within his own mind so that he now looked only upon the darkness behind his eyelids. Fluttering them open, bands of fleeting orange sunlight filled his vision as he sat upright and returned back into the grips of the physical world. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he could hear the faint chimes of music still coming from the record player, although the volume seemed to have been turned down so as to not disturb his slumber.

"Hey, you're finally awake," he heard his partner chime humorously. "I thought you'd died on me or something."

Spinning around at the sound of Mirika's voice, Shuvo noticed that she had sprawled herself out on the couch with a guitar magazine in one hand and a can of soda in the other. It was then that the vibrant memory came rushing back to the forefront of his thoughts, superimposing the images of what he had bore witness to within his mind's eye. Despite his gratefulness that the white-haired woman he was now looking at was the Mirika he had come to know and care for, he still couldn't help himself from simultaneously seeing the dejected little brunette who was left to wallow in her woes.

"Hey, you okay?" she questioned concernedly, noticing his vacant stare from over the top of her magazine. "You look like you've seen a ghost or something?"

Pulling him out of his momentary stupor, the khakkhara shook his head as he regained full comprehension of his surroundings.

"I am alright. Just a bad dream," he replied with a slight huffing sigh. "How long was I asleep for?"

"About four hours," Mirika answered. "I got out of the shower and you were already passed out listening to Sigurrós. I thought about waking you up, but you just looked so peaceful so I let you sleep. Actually I was gonna wake you up in a little bit anyways. We got plans with Yumi and Remmy tonight, remember?"

"Oh, yes, we do," he recalled, remembering the Demon Musket's offer to cook dinner for them that night if they were back from their mission to England. Having foregone his typical morning meal just for the occasion, the low grumble that came from his gut only stood to reaffirm his prior commitment. "Well I suppose that I should go get ready then."

Making his way towards the bathroom, Shuvo took a moment to peer over his shoulder at his Meister, who had casually gone back to enjoying whatever article she was reading in her magazine. Seeing her there on the couch listening to music with a look of utter relaxation and content about her, he found himself suddenly wondering what circumstances beyond what Proxy had shown him had moulded her into the person she was now. If what he had witness was indeed a real event of her past, he could only assume that somewhere deep down inside of her soul the pain of what she had endured still remained.

* * *

Hidden away from the prying eyes of the world, a faint pillar of smoke rising from a stone chimney whisped lazily in the winter breeze that filtered in off the Mediterranean. Located upon one of the seemingly infinite isles of Greece, said chimney was attached to a moderately sized cabin that was tucked away on a bushy brown hillside blanketed by a light layer of frost and snow, offering a splendorous view of the white rock cliffs that surrounded it and the sprawling grey sea that reflected the thick overcast above. It wasn't a spacious abode by any stretch of the imagination, considering that it now housed seven occupants, but it certainly was a far better accommodation than having to hide from Shibusen's intelligence networks in a dingy cave like a pack of rats. At the very least they could take solace in the fact that they now no longer had to scavenge for meager meals thanks in part to the bountiful offerings of their host. And a well fed home was a happy home, or at the very least kept its occupants from breaking into volatile outbursts the better part of the time.

Crowded over a work bench strewn with a vast assortment of books and parchments, the five Noahs, five being all of them except for Sloth Noah, who would rather nap than work, pressed on diligently with their assignment. Consulting one another on the project designated to them, they believed that they had come to an acceptable finalized rendition of the missing key for the witch's brazen, and admittedly even deranged, ambition. And that was saying something considering that his previous employer was one of the notorious Gorgon Sisters.

"Noah-samas, I made you some sandwiches!" Gopher announced with a V-smile, appearing behind them with a platter stacked with the morsels.

Never straying away from the work at hand, Wrath Noah reached out and ungratefully took one of the sandwiches, stopping just as he was about to take a bite.

"What the hell is this, brat?" he questioned with a slight growl, glaring with disgust at the sandwich that his lackey had cut into the shape of a heart.

"I made them with love, Noah-sama!" Gopher replied as the other sorcerers each took one for themselves, or a dozen in Gluttony Noah's case. "My Noah-samas can't work on destroying Shibusen on an empty stomach!"

Rolling his eyes at the brat's explanation, Wrath Noah tore a chunk out of the snack anyways without any word of thanks.

Coming from the wooden doorway of the cabin, a firm rapping upon the entrance alerted the occupants to someone's arrival, although they didn't respond with the same sense of hostility that they would have in the past. They had been expecting their new employers to arrive sometime that day to check up on their current status, although they found the action mildly irritating. They didn't need anyone checking up on them like they were a bunch of stupid kids, or at least that was Pride Noah's line of thinking.

"Get the door, brat!" Wrath Noah ordered, taking another heart shaped sandwich and biting it in half down the middle.

"Yes, Noah-sama!"

Unlatching the door, Gopher swung it open to reveal their current employer standing at the door along with her own faithful servant.

"Hello, Sibylla-san, Orobo-san," the minion greeted with faux politeness, stepping aside to invite the two in from out of the cold into their temporary living space. However, before the witch was able to even make her way past the threshold, the faithful young man by her side stepped forward to invade Gopher's personal space.

"Address Lady Brize properly or not at all," Orobo stated lowly, and it wasn't a friendly suggestion.

Not liking the tone of the spiky-haired brunette who was looking down upon him, Gopher locked eyes with the older servant and bowed up to him with his chest puffed out. Even though they were on the same side in this endeavor, the Grigori hadn't at all forgotten about their first encounter where Orobo had emerged from his vicious assault completely unscathed. He had taken that as an inexcusable failure in his job to protect his Noah-samas and had held a personal grudge against it ever since. Although there was no need for them to quarrel, and he personally harbored no ill will against Lady Brize per se, Gopher still wanted another shot at the witch's mysterious bodyguard in order to redeem himself in the eyes of his master. Whether it be a flat-chested, pigtailed girl from Shibusen or a scarf-wearing henchman for a witch, failure to prove his worth to Noah-sama in any manner was unforgivable.

"Get out of the way, brat! And say it right!" Wrath Noah barked angrily, knowing that any form of trouble with the witch or her servant meant that they could be back to hiding in caves in a heartbeat. Not that he honestly believed Lady Brize would do something like that seeing as how she required their assistance in order for her plan to flourish, but even still he wasn't stupid enough to bite the hand that fed him.

With a look of contempt for Orobo, Gopher did as his Noah-sama instructed and backed down with a huff before there was any escalation in the matter, his body language indicating that their confrontation wasn't over with yet.

"Won't you please come in, Lady Brize-sama, Orobo-san," he said with as much respect as he could forcibly muster for the latter. "Allow me to take your coat as well, Lady Brize-sama."

Handing her thick jacket over to Gopher graciously, the black and orange clad witch looked at the state of mild disarray of the abode, although she couldn't really say she was at all surprised. Piles of dirty dishes were stacked up in the sink, blankets and pillows were strewn about from whatever part of the cabin the Noah's made into a bed, and piles of her own magical texts covered every desk and tabletop. Hence the reason why she had allowed them the use of this hideaway rather than having the six sorcerers and their lackey take up residence in her home.

Moving some of the books and parchments aside, she settled down into a chair at the modest dinner table, permitting her already short black dress to ride up her creamy legs even further and subsequently drive Lust Noah absolutely mad.

"Can I get you anything, Lady Brize-sama," Gopher offered with genuine courtesy. "Some tea or something to eat perhaps?"

"None for me, but thank you anyways, Gopher," Sibylla rejected politely, having grown so accustomed to Orobo's tea and cooking over the years that anything that wasn't prepared by him simply failed to measure up by comparison.

Not even bothering to offer anything to Orobo, Gopher saw the man lean up against the wall with crossed arms and a glare, content to stand and watch over his Lady.

"It looks like you've been working hard, Noah," Sibylla observed casually, crossing her legs so that Lust Noah would stop trying to sneak a peek up her dress. "I hope that my books have been sufficient enough for what you need."

Turning away from their work, the Noahs all gave the host their undivided attention, although they knew that it was Wrath Noah primarily who the witch was addressing. Trying to have a conversation with six of the same person could be awfully frustrating in that respect at times.

"It's been a pain in the ass, but we're fairly certain that we did it," Noah griped, but with an underlying tone of accomplishment. "It obviously would have been a snap if I still had the Book of Eibon with me, but considering that's the entire point of this anyways then it shouldn't matter in the end."

"I see. Well that's wonderful news and I'll be sure to reward you properly," Sibylla said, happy to hear that the sorcerer might have actually been able to pull off the task she had assigned him. "Is there a chance that I can I see it?"

Reaching behind him, Noah took two simple sheets of square paper covered in an array of strange blackened markings off the work bench and handed them over to the witch.

"So this is how you did it?" she questioned with a curious intrigue, holding the papers in hand and analyzing the symbol in the center of the circle and the runes that filled in everything else. "It's funny to think that something as simple as a piece of paper can hold so much power in our fight against the Reaper and his forces. And you're sure that this will take us inside the book itself?"

"Of course it'll work. What kind of sorcerer do you take me for?" Pride Noah questioned smugly.

"I apologize, Noah. I meant no offense to your capability. Quite the opposite in fact. I'm actually very impressed with how quickly you were able to accomplish this. This might actually move the timeline up significantly for the final step of my operation."

Leering lightly at the witch in light of her statement, the Noahs gave her a look that demanded an explanation.

"What do you mean the final step?" Wrath Noah questioned irritably. "I was under the impression that this was the final piece that you needed. What else are you planning that you haven't told me?"

"Oh, you'll see soon enough, Noah," Sibylla replied calmly, playing coy to his inquiry. "All will be revealed in due time, but for now I can't express how grateful I am that you were able to finish with your work. Like I mentioned before, I'll be sure to handsomely reward all of you for your efforts."

A faint scowl began to work its way over the Noahs' features, not liking one bit the cryptic nature in which the woman was keeping the finer details of her plan from them. Although they did suppose that one couldn't be too careful when plotting something as zealous as overthrowing the Grim Reaper, the fact still remained that she had already thrown all caution to the wind by seeking him out for assistance.

"Have it your way. I won't ask any more questions, but you better keep to your end of the bargain, witch," Wrath Noah warned with a sneer. "I'm not someone you want to get on the wrong side of."

He wasn't stupid enough to bite the hand that fed him, but that didn't mean that he would take kindly to being fed empty promises either.

Taking the statement as an implied threat, Orobo pushed himself off the wall and stood erect with fists clenched by his side, ready to protect Lady Brize from any form of altercation, whether it be physical or verbal. However, she raised a hand to halt him, maintaining her composure and indicating that his assistance wouldn't be required at the present time.

"I assure you, Noah, that when all is said and done we will all walk away with what we want," Sibylla affirmed with an even glare of her own, her amber eyes becoming sharp and focused as she spoke. "I just have to go take care of one more little matter of business and then I will contact you when we're ready to commence with the operation. I give you my word that the Book of Eibon will be back in your hands shortly. I just need you to have just a little bit more patience and then you can unleash your accumulated rage until your heart's content. "

Nodding their heads in skeptic acknowledgement, the Noahs appeared satisfied with this answer and silently decided to hold the witch to her word on mere speculation alone. Although it was clear to see that they remained wary of the gaps in the finer details of the grand operation, they weren't about to say or do anything that would compromise their shot at getting their vengeance. In reality whatever Sibylla needed to do beforehand didn't concern them, so they decided not to give it any more thought than necessary. Their end of the deal had already been fulfilled and now all they had to do was wait for the witch to fulfill hers.

"Patience isn't exactly my strongest suit, but I suppose for this I'll have to make an exception," Wrath Noah stated with an even growl. "How long do you think this 'business' of yours is going to take anyways?"

"My hope is shortly after the next Witches' Mass, on the Winter Solstice," she replied. "If all goes according to plan then that is when we will make our gambit."

A look of utter confoundment spread about the Noahs and Gopher as Sybilla's explanation began sink in, followed shortly thereafter by devilish smirks of satisfaction. Beginning to understand the true lunacy of the woman who sat before him completely at ease with amber eyes that veiled her inner intentions, one by one the Noahs broke out into low morbid chuckles.

"You're willing to risk your own operation by launching it so close to the anniversary of Shibusen's founding and the night the Kishin was resurrected? You know full well that the Reaper is going to have his best on the lookout for anything suspicious," Lust Noah commented with a toothy, lecherous smirk. "Just when I think this plan of yours can't get any more insane, you go and up the ante, and I have to admit it's turning me on. There's nothing sexier in this world than a woman who loves to live dangerously."

Gritting his teeth at the hormonal sorcerer's remark, Orobo allowed such a comment towards his Lady to slide, but only that once. Lady Brize was certainly capable of handling herself with such matters, but it irritated him nonetheless that he couldn't do anything about the imbecile who was ogling her like a she were nothing more than a shameless body to be conquered.

Unperturbed by the Noah's lewd words, Sibylla rose daintily from her chair, moving barefoot across the wooden floor of the cabin with a hypnotic swing in her hips as she moved beside Orobo and towards the door. With her servant's assistance, she slipped her coat over her arms, still leaving her legs and feet exposed despite the chilly conditions outside.

"Well you do know what they say about the crazy ones," she smiled coyly, permitting Orobo to open the door for her as they made their leave. "We must be going now, but I'll be sure to have Orobo prepare something special for you as a token of my gratitude."

Pleased by the offer of food as a reward, Gluttony Noah hummed in approval as the remaining sorcerers watched Sibylla and Orobo take their leave without any parting words.

Stepping once more into the numbing cold and fluttering wind that filtered in from the sea, the witch and her faithful stepped lightly down the trail that led away from the cabin, waiting until they were a sufficient ways away before speaking.

"What are they saying, Lady Brize?" Orobo questioned with a faint, humorous smirk.

"Gopher is rambling quite boastfully about how he's going to defeat you in a challenge in order to win back his master's affection. He sounds quite convinced that the fire of his devotion will give him the strength to prevail over you… and now the Noah's are demanding he silence himself and have begun squabbling amongst themselves about the nature of our operation," Sibylla answered casually, finding the scene deliciously entertaining.

"I find it hard to believe that such an odd bunch are capable of posing any form of threat to Shibusen," the young man commented as they walked along, the hood of his cloak pulled down over his face to keep the wind from whipping it off. "Not to question your judgment, Lady Brize, but are you positive that they are the only way for us to succeed? Wouldn't it be possible for us to accomplish everything with our own magic?"

"I do wish that were the case, but it can't be helped," the witch responded. "The Noahs and Gopher are products of the Book of Eibon, so they are the only ones with the proper magical affinity that is required to create a new passage into the book. If we had the actual book at our disposal, or even an original fragment of it, all that would be required would be to create a magic circle and we could enter for ourselves without their assistance, but seeing as how that isn't possible our only other option was to have them create new fragments."

"But now that they have created the fragments, what is to stop them from merely transporting themselves back into the Book of Eibon without us?" Orobo wondered skeptically.

"Two reasons really," Lady Brize explained as the thin blanket of powder crunched between her toes as she stepped lightly down the path. "Like us, the Coven, and Shibusen, Noah is well aware that the book is currently imprisoned within the moon alongside the Kishin Asura and the Demon Swordsman Crona. This means that currently there is a race to see who can retrieve it first, however, nobody as of yet had been able to come up with a viable means of doing so. That is, until now. Noah knows that he could easily betray us and go back to the book at any time, but then he would only be trapped within the book within the Mad Blood. If he were to attempt to leave the safety of the book he would easily be devoured by the overwhelming weight of their madness. And because Noah can't wield the power of the Book of Eibon from the inside, it's futile for him to attempt anything too brash."

Impressed by the lengths that his Lady had gone to ensure that the finest details of their plan weren't overlooked, Orobo hummed in appreciation as they neared the end of the winding, snow-covered trail.

"And the second reason?" he questioned with intrigue.

Coming to a halt as the path disappeared over the face of a magnificent granite cliffside, Sibylla gave a knowing, devious smile as she summoned her broom with a snap of her fingers.

"Simply put, because we both live for the chaos."

* * *

According to the brass hands that crept about the face of the antiquated grandfather clock, midnight had long since passed and the blackened moon remained high in the celestial sky, offering no reprieve to the darkness with its illumination. All through the quaint neo-gothic home located just on the outskirts of Death City, the night was silent and serene in its stillness, save for the faint ruffling of sheets coming from the master bedroom.

Sweating and shaking profusely, Professor Craftlove tossed and turned subconsciously as the sacred eye tattoos about his face scrunching in discomfort as he slumbered. Clenching tightly to the crimson bedsheets that he had unknowingly kicked off the right half of his body, the inked gentleman rolled about, muttering faint, indecipherable incoherencies as he did so.

"Aleister?... Aleister…"

Feeling a hand upon his shoulder that gave several gentle nudges, the distressed teacher was brought out of his nightly terror as he bolted violently upright, panting heavily as perspiration dripped in rivulets down his forehead.

"Shhhhh…shhhh…shhh," a tender voice consoled gently in his ear, wrapping slender arms around his bare waist in an attempt to comfort him from his startling lurch back into reality. "It's alright, darling, I'm here. You're safe now. It was only a dream."

Coming to the realization of where he was, Craftlove's labored breaths began to slowly wane and the pounding drum within his tattooed chest steadily receded back into normalcy. Reaching down with sweaty palms, he cupped his hands over the delicate ones that were currently wrapped caringly around him.

"I'm alright," he finally managed to mutter, finding his mouth parched and in desperate need of quenching.

"Are you sure?" the woman beside him questioned softly in concern.

"I'm sure. I just need some water."

Prying his lover's hands from his body tenderly, Craftlove slid out of the bed, revealing his lean shirtless form that was chilled by his sweat in the depths of the night. Trudging with a hazy mind into the master bath, he flicked the light on, winching as the white vanity bulbs above him temporarily blinded him. Blinking a few times to adjust himself, he grasped the marble of the ornate sink with both hands to support himself as he gazed with a blanked stare at his reflection. Letting loose with a deep sigh, the man that stared back at him was downright pitiful with his head of chestnut hair slickened from his own sweat and the bags beneath his eyes that he knew were there, but were all but impossible to see due to his ink.

Splashing some cold water onto his face, he found the act helpful in refocusing his state of mind, but very little else as he was unwillingly pulled back into that haunting nightmare that was anything but.

"Aleister?" his lover questioned worriedly, approaching him slowly from behind. She was an enchanting woman of Indian descent in her early thirties with light cocoa skin and rich black hair that cascaded down in waves along her shoulders, some of which fell down in a curtain across her face from her awakened state. Dressed in a sheer black nightgown, she placed a caring hand upon the man's shoulder.

"Go back to sleep, Cana," Aleister urged tepidly, watching her in the mirror as she moved closer to him.

Ignoring his weak-worded protest, the woman slid her hand caressingly down his inked shoulders as she nuzzled against him; her body and breathing providing soothing warmth against his icy skin.

"What did you see?" she asked, closing her eyes as she listened to the rhythmic beating of his heart pulsing within his chest.

Sighing heavily, Aleister's gaze shifted from Cana down into the sink before him, as though somehow staring into the marble fixture would give him some pseudo sense of solace. Several fleeting moments of silence filled the air as the only sounds to be heard was their faint breaths moving in time to one another.

"Something dreadful is going to happen, isn't it?" she concluded, sensing the foreboding in his soul.

"You know I can't say," he replied somberly, reaching out to entwine his fingers between hers.

"Aleister…" she huffed with mild irritation behind her veil of hair, not about to go through that tired discussion again, especially at such an ungodly hour."How am I supposed to help you if you never tell me what's troubling you?"

Keeping his eyes trained on the marble before him, Craftlove wondered the exact same thing as he rubbed his thumb in little circles over the top of her delicate hand to ease his nerves.

"Cana…I want you to go back to Cambridge," he said gingerly, not so much a desire as a plea. "Go be with your parents and keep them safe."

"You know as well as I do that that's not going to happen," she rebutted swiftly with a firm tenderness. "Mum and dad will be safe out in the countryside. My place is right here with you."

Knowing that there wasn't any way he was going to be able to convince her otherwise short of force, Craftlove caved in and accepted her decision without any reprisal.

"Then stay with me, Cana. That's all I need," he whispered. "You'll stay with me, won't you?"

With a gentle tug, the woman slipped her hands from Craftlove's grasp, moving to slide herself between the bare-chested man and the mirror that he subconsciously tried to avoid. Forcing him to look down to meet her tender grey eyes that shone with an understanding of his words, she lifted herself lightly up on her toes and met him in a devoted kiss.

"I'll be there every step of the way."

* * *

**Omake:**

"What?! No way!" Mirika gasped in shock, turning the television up to an unnecessary volume as she listened to the anchorman on screen break into the latest top story. "No! Dammit, no, no, no!"

Looking up from the kitchen sink where he was currently in the process of doing dishes, Shuvo couldn't help but wonder just what in the world his Meister was getting all worked up about.

"What is going on?" he questioned curiously, stepping over into the living room to see for himself.

"Lemmy died!" the goth cried out, shaking her head in disbelief. "Freakin' Lemmy died!"

"Remmy died?!" the monk yelled with bugged out eyes.

"Not that perv! Lemmy! Lemmy the freakin' metal god!"

"_This just in…it has also been reported that famed guitar player Glenn Frey, co-founder of the famed American rock band…"_

"Glenn too!" she groaned, burying her hands in her face. "This can't be happening! Lemmy and Glenn! Freakin' hell!"

Turning the television off, Mirika rose swiftly from the couch, storming over to her collection and shuffled through them before finding the one she wanted. Pulling it out of its sleeve, she let the needle drop and rolled the volume knob to the max.

"This one's for you, Lemmy!" she announced defiantly with horns in the air as the thundering blast of heavy metal shook the entire apartment complex. "Rock 'n roll will never die!"

* * *

Laid out on the floor comfortably on the tatami mat in their quaint quarters, Tsubaki was skimming through the headlines of the daily newspaper when something rather interesting caught her attention.

"Black Star, come look at this," she said, interrupting the bushin in the middle of his five thousandth sit up.

"What is it, Tsubaki?" he wondered, hopping to his feet as he looked over her shoulder at the article she was reading.

"This man Bowie died recently and his last album just went to number one," she paraphrased, knowing that Black Star wouldn't take the time to read the article anyways. "And it just so happens that the name of the album is called 'Black Star'."

"Well of course its number one, Tsubaki! It's named after yours truly!" the assassin boasted with a narcissistic laugh. "But even with such a great album name, this Bowie guy won't ever be as big of a star as me!"

"Ummm…I'm not so sure about that," Tsubaki replied knowingly, pointing to a picture of a star chart printed along with the article. "It says here he's getting his own constellation, so it's sort of like he's made of actual stars now."

"What?! That's not fair?! Nobody can be a bigger star than me!" Black Star shouted in disbelief. "Well just you wait, Tsubaki! One of these days they're going to name an entire galaxy after me! Then we'll see who the big star is!"

Rubbing the bridge of her nose between her fingers, Tsubaki sighed in conceit. Sometimes it was just best to let Black Star be Black Star.

* * *

**A/N: My apologies everyone, I got a little tied up with work, but I'm trying to get back on my two week release schedule.**

**I'm not a fan of doing omakes for my chapters, but for this one I've granted an exception. January 2016 has been a very depressing month in the music industry, and I wanted to express my own feelings for the tremendous loss in irreplaceable talent through my characters. First off, I was shocked (and then really not so shocked) to learn Lemmy Kilmister, legendary founder of Motorhead, passed away of cancer. I say I was not so surprised considering he was never seen without a handle of Jack and a cigarette in hand. He's probably kicking ass and taking names on the other side right now. And then I learned that Glenn Frey, co-founder of Eagles, died of complications as well this week. I love rock and metal, but Eagles hold a very special place near and dear to my heart. They're the band I grew up on. I knew all the lyrics to "Hotel California" before I could do multiplication tables, and I will always have many fond memories that their music has been a part of. I consider myself blessed to have seen them live before Glenn's passing. The end of an era my friends. **

**BTW, I make references to both Motorhead and Eagles (and actually two of Glenn Frey's songs) back in Chp. 13.**

**With regards to David Bowie's passing, I can't say I was ever much of a fan, but I can certainly respect him for the impact he had on music. When I learned what the title was of his last album, I just couldn't pass up doing something with that. Hope ya'll enjoyed it.**

**K.K. **


	21. To the Victors Go the Spoils

Chapter 21: To the Victors Go the Spoils: It's All Just a Game in the End?

"42-42-564."

Saying the numbers aloud as they were written on the fog of a small compact mirror, the reflective surface pulsed with waves of blue rings while emitting a pinging dial tone before the circle shone with a white brilliance.

"Death Room here, Lord Death speaking," the shinigami answered with an air of professionalism about him as his image filled the screen.

"Hello, Lord Death. Demon Ulaks Kiana Makali reporting in," the equally straightforward voice of the pigtailed teen greeted from the other end of the line.

"Ah, Kiana, how are you? I was beginning to wonder when you were going to report back in. I take it that there must have been a few issues with neutralizing Sorrow Man the White then?" Lord Death questioned casually, assuming as such considering that it had been a couple of days since their mission began and he hadn't heard anything from them since.

"Nee, Sir. Everything went smoothly," the girl replied with a slight shake of her head. "The ol' buggar was a bit of a pain to find at first because he was using a Soul Protect, but once we saw through his smoke and mirrors it wasn't too hard to take him out. We were also able to confirm your suspicions about him as well. Even though he was able to use Soul Protect, he didn't have a sorcerer's soul."

Breathing an internal sigh of relief, Kid kept his outward composure as the girl gave her synopsis about their most recent target. Sorrow Man the White was a C-ranked kishin egg that he had been honestly hesitant about adding to his list considering the treaty with the witches. Granted, according to said treaty the Coven didn't particularly care one way or the other what happened to the souls of sorcerers so long as the DWMA didn't target witches under the authority of Maba, but the peculiar nature of the corrupted soul gave him reason enough to believe that something about Sorrow Man wasn't quite kosher and that he should handle the matter with a certain amount of discretion.

"I see. Thank you for that information, Kiana, and I'm glad to hear that he wasn't an actual sorcerer," he said to the face in the mirror. "That could have caused a lot of issues with…wait…what is that?"

"What's what, Sir?" Kiana questioned curiously, tilting her head a little to the side.

"That," Kid replied flatly, pointing a finger at the screen, indicating something over the ulak's shoulder.

Turning around at Lord Death's inquiry, Kiana was halfway expecting to see something out of the ordinary coming up from behind, but only spied a little white bird shuffling along that pecked at the ground randomly.

"Umm….that's a seagull, Sir," she replied flatly, using every ounce of conscious thought she possessed not to use her sarcastic voice or roll her eyes in front of Lord Death. She knew from experience that Old Lord Death could hand out some pretty nasty Reaper Chops when she had made the mistake of getting snippy with him once, and she really had no desire to find out if his successor was as easily provoked.

"Yes, I can see that," Kid replied, unamused by her astute powers of observation. "But _why_ is there a seagull behind you? Aren't you two supposed to be in the New Zealand highlands?"

"Ja, well we sorta got a lil'…sidetracked… but we'll be back as soon as we can," Kiana stated hesitantly before quickly tacking on the follow through for extra assurance. She had the right mind to say her goodbyes and end the conversation right there, but the look upon Lord Death's face was one that indicated that he wasn't going to accept the open ended explanation so easily. Lacing his fingers together so that his Death Skull rings were showing, he rested them beneath his chin and leaned forward in his chair with an even glare.

"Kiana, where are you?" he questioned neutrally, but with an ever-so slight hint of demand in his tone.

Flushing a hint of red across her cheeks, the Weapon reared back a little from the mirror she held in her hand despite knowing that Lord Death couldn't do anything besides scold her, at least until they made their way back to the Academy.

"Well, you see…we...we're-" she stammered before being abruptly cut off mid-sentence.

Still able to view everything that the mirror was pointed at, the focal point of the surrounding landscape became almost dizzyingly nauseating for Kid as the communicator shifted rapidly between sandy ground with speckles of green patches, clear blue sky, and flesh tones from two seperate individuals. Quick shouts of protest and slanders in a foreign dialect filled the screen as at last the image settled down to show Kiana's partner holding the mirror above her head.

"Ag, Vicky, give that back, chop!" Kiana could be heard yelling explicitly just out of sight.

"Oi, Lord Death! What's up?!" Victoria grinned brightly as her face filled the screen, tilting the reflective circle down so that it gave the shinigami an easy peek down her bikini top printed with the Australian flag.

"Victoria, explain yourselves. Why aren't you reporting in from New Zealand?" Lord Death questioned with exasperation, disciplining his golden eyes to not wander southward into his student's cleavage. While she wasn't necessarily as stacked as Liz or Patty, the young Aussie still had enough ampleness to add some definition to her body and subsequently made it very difficult for him to concentrate on the discussion at hand.

"What do you mean? We're still here," the Meister responded with an innocent, if almost too innocent, smile. Little did Lord Death know that the Demon Ulak duo had actually disposed of Sorrow Man the White three days ago, hopped a charter from New Zealand over to Victoria's home in Sydney, and had been basking in the pleasantry of the Southern Hemisphere summer, kicking back and catching some swells while they played hookie.

In all fairness to her, Kiana had been adamantly opposed to the idea, but was eventually broken down by her partner's aggravatingly insistent ways.

"Yep, just got through saving all these kiwis from that ol' bearded bloke," Victoria added. "So we'll be on our way back to the Academy as soon as we can. Alright then, we'll see you in a bit. Ciao!"

Making a move to sever the connection, Victoria had almost fully closed the compact mirror when Lord Death's voice broke through.

"Wait!" he stated firmly, if almost with a tinge of desperation.

Thinking she had almost gotten away with it, the Meister put on her best toothy smile and reluctantly opened the mirror back up again.

"Oi?" she questioned coyly, watching as the shinigami looked at her through the screen with a critical glare. A moment of awkward silence followed her inquiry as their leader leaned in a little bit closer on his end, still resting his chin upon his interwoven fingers.

"Move the mirror back," he instructed evenly.

Not quite sure what Lord Death was getting at, Victoria extended her arms all the way out so that the image was as wide as possible for him to see. Based purely upon line of sight, it didn't take her any time to figure out that the almighty head of the DWMA was scrutinizing her assets, even if his outward expression wasn't one of perverseness. She halfway thought about ending the conversation right there, but a deviant little voice inside her head urged her to let him continue in hopes that maybe he might actually compliment them. How many girls at the Academy could say that Lord Death himself had been checking her out, she wondered devilishly?

"While I do encourage students of the Academy to take pride in their diverse nationalities, your choice in swim top is bother me to no end," he stated at long last with a matter-of-fact tone, causing the Meister to do a double take in surprise. She was equally caught off guard when he stuck a finger out in observation, as though trying to reach through the divide and poke at her girls. "On your right breast you have the image of the Union Jack, which by itself is simply one of the most beautiful national symbols there is because it has not only vertical and horizontal symmetry, but diagonal as well. But on your left breast you have several stars, all with…seven points!"

Turning to one another in equal states of befuddlement, Victoria and Kiana watched on without a word as Lord Death began to shake, spitting the last two words as though they were poison on his tongue. It was no secret to the two girls that their glorious leader had a rather eccentric obsession with symmetry, but for something as insignificant as a flag on a bikini this was beginning to reach a new level of quirkiness.

"I could live with your top not being perfectly symmetrical by having the Union Jack on the right and the stars on the left, but only if the stars had eight points!" he shouted, knocking over his chair as he sprung upright and grabbed a fistful of hair. "But it's not! They have seven! Why does it have to be seven?! It should be eight I tell you!"

"It's my country's flag, Lord Death. I really can't do anything to change it," Victoria replied in mild defense, not sure what to really do or say now that the shinigami was all riled up.

"Then I'll have them change it!" Kid yelled frantically in rebuttal. "I'll write a letter to the Prime Minister right now and demand that he replace all the stars with ones with eight points!"

"I'm really not sure if that's going to do anything…"

Clearly not satisfied by the Ulak Meister's response, Lord Death began a lengthy ramble about the importance of complete balance, initiating an utterly bizarre one-sided monologue that the two teens could only sit back and listen to with the upmost bewilderment.

"Perhaps I could issue an executive order to have it changed," he proposed to himself before quickly dejecting the idea. "No, no, that won't work. I can't just go around abusing my authority like that. But even still, something must be done to remedy this predicament."

"Well I could just take it off," Victoria suggested jokingly under her breath, not entirely sure if Lord Death was even listening as he continued to ramble to himself.

"Or you could just take it off," Kid repeated absent mindedly, completely oblivious the context of the implication as he rubbed his hand beneath his chin while wracking his own mind for some form of solution to their asymmetrical dilemma.

Facing one another with dumbfounded expressions plastered over both their faces, Kiana and Victoria couldn't believe that Lord Death had actually agreed with the highly lewd, and not to mention highly inappropriate, proposal, even if they were fairly certain that he was unaware of what the Meister had said. Seeing an impish little grin spread over her partner's lips, the Demon Ulaks could already see the idiotic plan begin to take shape in Victoria's head. Silently mouthing her protest, Kiana's eye's bugged out wide as Victoria gave her a knowing wink that could only spell trouble for the both of them.

"Well…alright then," Victoria stated brightly with a nonchalant smile, holding out the mirror with one hand while the other reached behind her neck to the strings that held her top in place. Tugging at the knot, she freed the loose ends with her fingers and allowed the material concealing her chest to sag just ever so slightly.

In what seemed like a split second, multiple events unfolded as the Ulak Meister teased the valley of her cleavage, still holding onto the bikini strings behind her neck. The first was that despite her dark complexion, Kiana's body turned ghostly white as she for once in her life found no snarky words or foreign slanders that could adequately describe her horrification at the strawberry blonde's insanely ludicrous actions. The second was that Lord Death looked up momentarily from his inner confliction, only to see one of his E.A.T. students in the process of undressing herself right before his very eyes. This not only brought him crashing headlong back into reality, but also dislocated his jaw, which dropped onto the floor in utter confoundment. Like the Weapon, he had no adequate words that could properly convey his feelings on the situation. Unable to bring himself to form any protest or even scold the Meister, he stood with mouth agape as he stared at the image like a deer in headlights.

And the third, and most abruptly violent of all, was the arrival of a swift fist across the shinigami's cheek that appeared seemingly out of thin air. Lifting Kid clear off his feet and sending him flying off of the raised platform with the force of a speeding freight train, the blow knocked him absolutely senseless despite his resilient shinigami body.

"What the hell is going on here?!" Liz raged furiously with an infernal hellfire burning in her eyes, her fingers balling so hard into a fist that she actually managed to snap two of her nail extensions in her grip. "Is this what you do when we're out running your errands?! Get girls to flash you their boobs?! What, you don't get your fill enough at home when you grope me and Patty so now you have to resort to your own students?!"

"And you, Victoria!" she fumed, turning rapidly to the screen and pointing a broken nail at the provocative Meister on the other end. "Don't you have any shame?! Put your top back on!"

Figuring that the jig was up and that her fun with Lord Death had come to an abrupt end, Victoria merely smiled in contention as she let out a faint chuckle.

"What? You really thought I was going to show Lord Death my bits?" she questioned casually, setting the mirror down so she could fasten her bikini back behind her. "Nah, I was just having a lil' bit of fun. Doesn't anybody in this world have a sense of humor anymore? And for the record, Lord Death was staring at me first."

"I don't care who started it!" the elder Thompson Sister shouted, flailing her arms wildly. "And it's not funny! What you were doing was wrong on so many levels!"

"I dunno, Sis. The look on Kid's face was pretty funny," Patty chimed in with a cutesy giggle.

"Don't encourage her, Patty!"

"Well when you think about it, wouldn't it freak him out less to look at two symmetrical boobs than an unsymmetrical bikini?" the youngster questioned with an innocent hum.

"I can attest to that!" Kid announced dizzily from his place on the floor as little stars and Death Skulls continued to swirl around him.

"You stay out of this!" Liz barked. "Just stay on the floor and I'll deal with you later!"

"Unless she had unsymmetrical boobs or something, but I guess that would just freak him out more," Patty continued on. "Oh, what if she has like really weird nipples or something!"

"You've seen me in the locker room. You know what I look like," Victoria deadpanned to the wild accusation.

"That not the point," Liz growled in frustration, not knowing upon whom she should direct her aggravation as she rubbed her temples with both hands. "The point is that she shouldn't be flashing her boobs, especially to the head of the Academy."

"Well like I said before, Lord Death was staring at my girls first," the Ulak Meister countered. "How do you explain that?"

"It appears my pursuit of symmetrical perfection combined with the Madness of Boobs has led us to this unfavorable situation," Kid remarked, appearing back on screen as he slumped down into his chair and tended to his wounded pride.

"Oh not that again," Liz groaned, slapping her forehead irritably. "We've been over this a hundred times. There's no such thing as the Madness of Boobs. You just made that up."

"The Madness of Boobs _is _real and I have the evidence to prove it," the shinigami stated matter-of-factly. "Patty, bring me the chart!"

"Yay, the chart!"

Producing a large easel seemingly out of thin air, Patty revealed a white poster board with two prominent circles side by side that contained smaller circles within their centers.

"What do you see?" Kid questioned of the elder sister, directing all of their attentions to the chart as he went around the group individually.

"Boobs…" Liz answered with an exasperated groan of annoyance, having gone over the chart for what seemed like the millionth time.

"Knockers," Victoria stated casually.

"Ag…bits," Kiana said in disbelief that they were even having this conversation right now.

"Hahaha, boobies!" Patty cheered with unabashed laughter.

"So that makes for a one hundred percent positive survey," Kid concluded with an air of satisfaction. "This proves that the Madness of Boobs is real enough. You could have seen a variety of things within the chart; the tires of a car or perhaps a very surprised pair of eyes. But no! Like over eighty percent of the general populous you all saw boobs!"

"The only thing this proves is that people have dirty minds!" Liz argued with futility. "And even still, that doesn't mean that either of you are getting off the hook! That means you too, Victoria!"

Whirling around to direct her reignited fury upon the young Aussie, Liz's lips turned downwards into a dumbfounded scowl as she saw that the connection had been severed and the only one she was yelling at was her own reflection.

"Argh! When I get my hands on her…!" she seethed.

"Just let it go, Liz," Kid said in conceit. "She pulled a fast one on me, but it was my own fault. I let my compulsions get the better of me, so we'll call it even just this once."

"You're kidding me, right?! You're not going to discipline her at all?!" Liz questioned demandingly. "You're not going to give her remedial classes or detention or confiscate a few souls or anything?! Please at least tell me you're going to give her one good Reaper Chop for that stunt?!"

"No, I suppose not," the shinigami confessed, rubbing his swollen cheek.

"Give me one good reason why not!"

"Because before this entire wardrobe debacle occurred, Kiana and Victoria passed along some very vital information with regards to their last target, Sorrow Man the White," Kid explained. "Our intelligence indicated that Sorrow Man was a low level sorcerer, but I had my suspicions that he probably wasn't so I sent Kiana and Victoria out anyways. Upon neutralizing Sorrow Man, they were able to confirm that he wasn't actually a sorcerer, but a kishin egg that had been using a Soul Protect and other low level spells to disguise himself."

Falling quiet, Liz's rage slowly began to wane as the implication of the information began to permeate. Turning her scowl into a faint frown of concern, the Demon Pistol thought on the revelation momentarily before giving her response.

"Another one?" she questioned worriedly to herself. "That makes what…five or six so far that have been caught using Soul Protects in the last month? This just doesn't make any sense. Why are some kishin eggs all of a sudden able to use magic?"

"I'm not entirely sure, but I would think it's safe to wager that they're getting some help from somewhere, or someone," Kid replied evenly, resting his chin in his hand as he contemplated the latest case in a growing trend. "I'm not about to rush to any conclusions, but all the fingers right now are pointing to a witch behind all of this."

"It's just like when we were on the moon and the witches cast their Soul Protects onto the clowns, except this time it's with pre-kishin," Liz deduced, remembering the battle in all its vividness. "I still don't get it though. Why would someone use a Soul Protect on low ranked targets? "

"Again, I'm not sure, but my intuition says that someone out there isn't exactly thrilled that the Academy is trying to advance our relationships with the witches. My uneducated guess is that this is their way of indirectly retaliating against the alliance. Whoever it is must have known that we would have easily figured out it was someone who could use magic, so they must have wanted us to know."

"So what are we going to do about it? Should we tell the Coven that one of the witches might be rogue?"

"I don't think that's necessary. I believe that we can deal with this issue on our own for now. Fortunately for us the Soul Protect isn't perfectly compatible with the kishin eggs, so it's not a guaranteed camouflage. They won't be able to elude me, but they'll be a thorn in the side for teams in the field who don't have Soul Perception. I don't see it as much of a threat right now, but we do need to continue to monitor these cases diligently just as a precaution."

Although she remained skeptical and wary of the new and unknown phenomenon, Liz nodded her head in agreement to Kid's decision.

"Yeah, that's a good idea," she confirmed. "Better safe than sorry."

* * *

"And…five…four…three…two…one! Pencils down! No more writing!"

In one dramatically collective breath of relief, the student's of Professor Craftlove's N.O.T. class groaned exhaustively as the Ultimate Written Exam came to a definitive end after what seemed like the longest single hour they had ever had the misfortune of sitting through. The expressions on their faces told the entire story as well as their body language. Seated on the fourth row, Remmy's head slumped down against the desktop as he surrendered himself to the reality that he had probably failed miserably. Beside him, Yumi stared anxiously at the sheets of paper before her, believing that she had done fairly well, but at the same time knowing that there were some questions that she had most likely gotten incorrect. However, there were some students, like Shuvo and the rapier Allyson Caldwell, who sat attentively in their seats with an air of satisfaction about them as they turned their tests over, knowing that their diligent study habits had paid off in kind. And then there was Mirika, who uncaringly pushed her test to the edge of the desk, produced her music player from her pocket, and popped the earbuds in to drown out the outside world.

"Pass your tests towards the aisle so that Miss Tsubaki or Mister Death Scythe can collect them," Craftlove instructed, watching as the students began to shuffle their papers inwards. "After they've collected your tests you're free to go."

Taking the exams of the students next to him, Shuvo passed them along to Mirika and eventually Miss Tsubaki. Following his Meister's lead as she grabbed her guitar case and slung the strap over her shoulder, they joined in with the rest of the class as they made a quick exodus out of the amphitheater.

"Aye, Santa Muerte, that was brutal," Remmy griped with an aura of distraught about him as the four of them followed the flow of the crowd and made a beeline for the exit. "Well, nothing I can do about it now. The only thing I can worry about now is tonight."

"Well if you stopped worrying about tonight and had actually studied for the exam then you might have done a lot better," Yumi chastised, rolling her eyes behind her glasses.

"I can't help it. I'm so pumped that I can't stop thinking about it," the Meister replied, turning his frown into cheeky grin. "Shuvo, you ready for this man?"

"I suppose I am," the khakkhara responded as the gaggle entered out onto the Academy's plaza overlooking Death City. "It is unfortunate that Matteo twisted his ankle on his last mission, but I am ready to help in any way I can in his place."

"If you're as good tonight as you've been in practice then you'll be golden," Remmy assured, remarkably at ease despite losing one of his better strikers. "Besides, we've got nothing to worry about with me as captain."

* * *

Breaking through the darkness of the mildly bitter winter night, the stadium lights cast their humming glow upon the soccer pitch as the two teams took the field, ready to do battle for the ultimate glory. On one end of the pitch a mass of green and black striped jerseys with black shorts huddled together, swaying back and forth as they psyched themselves up. On the other end of the field a cluster of white jerseys with patches of red and white shorts let out a booming war cry into the night.

Excusing themselves through the small crowd that had filled the metal bleachers, Yumi and Mirika found an empty section of bench and settled themselves down, making sure to give the Khakkhara Meister plenty of room to store her guitar case protectively beside her.

"Did you have to bring your guitar with you?" Yumi questioned curiously, wondering why the older girl always insisted on towing it wherever she went. "Wouldn't it be better if you left it at home so nothing could happen to it?"

"Nah, this baby is plenty safe as long as it's next to me," Mirika replied casually, patting the tolex case. "The only time I leave her at home is when we're on a mission, and if someone was ever stupid enough to even think about stealing her I would personally hunt them down, rip their spine out, and shove it back in where the sun don't shine."

Quivering slightly at the gothic girl's metaphorical threat, Yumi could tell that even though she said it in jest, she would live up to that promise in a heartbeat if she really wanted to.

Coming from the center of the pitch, the shrill screech of a whistle caught their attention, indicating that warm ups were over and that it was game on.

"Alright, listen up!" Sid announced to everyone within earshot, allowing the whistle to fall from his mouth and dangle in front of his black and white referee's uniform that had had the sleeves torn off. "This match will determine the overall champion of the Death City Amateurs League! I want a good clean game! Play hard and most of all have fun!"

Stomping his foot against the grass, a white and black soccer ball emerged from a gaping fissure that the zombie had created before the schism closed back up seamlessly.

"Death City FC, are you ready?!" Sid questioned, motioning toward the team in green and black as they replied with a unified shout.

"United DC, are you ready?!" he repeated, pointing towards their red and white opponents. Their collective boom filled the air as they pumped their fists in defiance.

"Let's play!"

Given the green light to begin, Remmy started the match off by dropping the ball back to one of his teammates, who made another calculating pass as they began their advance up the field.

"Go Remmy! Go Shuvo! You can do it!" Yumi cheered enthusiastically, holding up her homemade poster that had both of the boys' jersey numbers, forty-two and eight respectfully, written in green glitter below the outline of a large heart.

Bewildered by the young Weapon's boisterous motivation, Mirika had never seen the introverted girl say anything above normal conversation volume before. To actually see and hear her shout out something for the first time in the several months they had been acquainted came as a little bit more than a pleasant surprise for the Meister.

"So the church mouse can get riled up after all?" Mirika jested underhandedly. "I guess all it takes is the right motivation to get you come out of your shell."

Blushing red at the comment, Yumi lowered her poster and took her seat with an air of mild embarrassment as the game pressed on before them. Watching attentively from the bleachers, she saw Shuvo run about the field sans cleats, the only one out there to do so, dribbling the ball several seconds before he dropped it behind him to one of his defenders. Rearing back, the defenseman wound up and fired away from a distance with a screaming strike that curved slightly towards the upper right corner of the opponent's net. Sailing over the heads of the United DC players, it looked like a surefire goal until a flash of yellow jersey appeared with arms stretched out, catching the ball mid-dive before tumbling to the turf with it cradled protectively in his arms. Punting the ball back towards midfield, the save forced Remmy's team to retreat and battle for control once more.

"Hold on a second," Mirika remarked to herself, glancing back downfield towards the opposing team's net. She hadn't really bothered to pay much attention to the game, or at least the players on the other team, but there was something about that goaltender that for some reason or another had caught her attention. Sure enough, as she squinted to get a better look at the teen between the posts at the far end of the field, she spied none other than a distinctive head of silvery-platinum hair.

"Dammit, you've gotta be kidding me," she halfway groaned in disbelief and halfway growled. "Here of all places?"

"What's the matter?" Yumi questioned, noticing the faint grimace that had begun to form on the older girl's face. However, it appeared her inquiry had fallen on deaf ears as Mirika began systematically scanning the patrons around them with a vigilant gleam. Several moments passed by before the Meister shook her head and turned her attention back to the game, which didn't looked to have progressed for either side as they battled it out back and forth for dominance.

Breaking out from the melee of jabbing footwork, Remmy gained control of the ball and took off full sprint downfield, dribbling the orb skillfully as he juked by a United DC defenseman and passed to one of his teammates, who sidestepped around another defender before giving it right back. With nothing between him and net except the platinum-haired goaltender, he tried to get just a little bit closer to the goal knowing that the opposition was hot on his heels. Kicking the ball a little ways out in front of him, Remmy set up the shot, reared back, and struck.

It all happened so quickly, but from the moment he tried to take a shot on the breakaway he instinctively knew that something wasn't right. He felt his head snap back with a startling whiplash as his right foot swung high over the ball, missing it entirely, and his left foot lost its traction, causing it to slide out from under him as he tumbled awkwardly onto his back. Landing flat with a painful grunt, he opened his eyes to see the glow of the lights above, hearing the shrill screech of a whistle being blown and the jeering of the crowd in the distance.

"Number twenty-seven, white! That's an unsportsman-like tackle!" Sid barked, raising a yellow card above his head. "Death City FC will get a penalty kick!"

Seeing the lenient charge against the player who had blatantly run up behind Remmy and dragged him down by one of his ponytails, Mirika bolted upright from her seat and stood tall against the crowd.

"That's bullcrap, Sid!" she berated angrily, making her displeasure with the call explicitly known. "He grabbed him by the hair! Kick him out of the game!"

Ignoring his student's heckling, the zombie placed the ball at the penalty mark as Shuvo helped the slightly dazed Remmy to his feet.

"What the hell, Sid?!" Mirika continued as she made a spectacle of herself, but couldn't care less about the small crowd of onlookers that eyed her quizzically. "That was a cheap shot and you know it! Kick him out!"

"Why don't you do us all a favor and leave the officiating to the officials, Rainblood?"

And there it was; that pretentious, elitist voice that the Khakkhara Meister had been dreading might show itself. As soon as she had recognized the opposing team's goaltender as none other than Ebb Gemini, she knew that his twin sister was bound to be hiding somewhere amongst the fans. Sure enough, against her better judgment, her head swung on a dime to spy Florence seated several rows back and to their right, dolled up like a teenage version of a soccer mom with her standard silver skirt that matched the Kashmir sweater she kept tied around her neck despite the ambient chill of the night.

"Stay out of this, Princess," Mirika snarled, pulses of a quickly seething wavelength radiating from her soul as their eyes locked onto one another. "That was a dirty move and everyone here knows it."

"I'm not denying it," the Demon Chain Whip replied calmly, arranging her words in such a way that they didn't directly imply that she agreed. "It was a detestable display and he's been penalized according to the official's ruling. However, you barking like a mangy mutt isn't going to change anything, so I would suggest you sit down and put a muzzle on it."

Deep within the gothic girl's chest, the black and blue flames began to rise with her boiling blood as she balled her fists tight against her sides. Releasing wave upon wave of contempt, her expanding aura sent several of the onlooking patrons ducking for cover as she stepped up onto the metal bleacher behind her.

"I'm sorry, wanna run that by me again?" she seethed between clenched teeth, her canines exposed as she took another step closer to the Gemini. "I couldn't quite hear you with my fist in your face."

Rising lightly from her seat at the challenge, Flo straightened her skirt smartly with a faint smirk of amusement.

"I said that nobody came here to listen to your obnoxious yapping, so why don't you make like a good little doggy and sit."

"How about I make you play dead," Mirika countered as she popped her knuckles threateningly.

"You're just the same as ever, Rainblood," Flo taunted easily. "All bark and no bite. I think somebody needs to put you back on your leash."

Flashing a brilliant silver, the E.A.T. student's forearm took her whip form, becoming a long series of steel chains attached to the weighted blade at the end that pooled around her feet.

"Try it and see what happens, Princess. Let's see you run your mouth when you're not hiding behind Ebb."

If looks could kill, Mirika's eyes would have certainly summoned a fiery apocalypse upon the smug girl before her without a second's hesitation. Grinding her teeth, she moved to take another step closer to the Gemini sister with no indication of backing down from the impending fight before she was brought to an abrupt halt when something caught her by the wrist. Swinging around with a venomous leer, she saw that Yumi had taken hold of her with a pleading, almost pitiful expression about her.

"Stay out of this, Yumi," Mirika growled, tugging her arm forcefully in an attempt to pry it away from the young Weapon's grasp. "This is between me and her."

Refusing to let go, the Arisaka's grip only latched tighter around the seething girl's wrist as she shook her head in an uncharacteristic display of boldness.

"I don't know what you're deal is with her, but can't you just let it go?" she admonished firmly, maintaining her hold. "You didn't come here to fight. You came to support Shuvo, remember? Tonight's about him and Remmy."

"I know that, but-"

"No! No buts, Mirika," Yumi rebuked sharply, standing her ground. "Whatever the issue is can wait until later. Let's just ignore her and watch the game."

Trembling with rage against the Demon Musket's hold, Mirika could hardly believe that the timid little Weapon had the gall to get between her and the sound thrashing she was about to bestow upon her foil. Rendered speechless, her inner conflictions became apparent as she strained between the two factions of her consciousness; the first being the dominant voice that wanted to land a vicious uppercut on Flo that would send her flying into the next county, and the other that reminded her that she probably should just let it go for the time being. This was Shuvo's night after all, and some of his sage wisdom had been starting to engrain itself into her thought pattern as of late.

Doing something that she never thought possible, Mirika breathed in a deep, heaving breath to try to calm herself. Feeling her high strung muscles relax just ever so slightly, she huffed in explicit agitation before spinning around and slumping into her seat without a word.

"Good doggy," she heard Flo remarked complacently, using every ounce of restraint she possessed not to whirl back around in violent confrontation. Forcing her attention back to the game at hand, she could see Shuvo watching her from across the field with a look of concern as Remmy took his position for his penalty kick. He obviously must have picked up on the hateful wavelength that she had been emitting. Giving him an ensuring nod and a thumbs up, he returned the gesture and returned to the game at hand.

"Don't think this is over, Princess. Not by a long shot," Mirika muttered to herself beneath her breath as Yumi resumed her cheering for her Meister.

Stepping back a ways from the ball, Remmy stared Ebb down with a determined glare as the Gemini brother appeared entirely composed and nonchalant as he took his position between the posts. In fact, he seemed almost bored with the notion that he would have to make an effort to defend his net. But Remmy knew better than to underestimate that relaxed posture. This hadn't been the first time their two teams had gone head to head during the season and there was a logical reason that they chose to position the Demon Shield as their goaltender.

Given the go ahead from Sid's screeching whistle, the captain took a deep breath before stepping forward into his free shot. Connecting squarely with the inside of his foot, Remmy watched as the ball rocketed off the ground, quite literally in fact, as he missed the goal entirely and sent the orb sailing high over the crossbar and into the distant night.

"Guess he's as bad of a shot in soccer as he is at target practice," Mirika deadpanned flatly, wondering how in the world he could have possibly missed such an easy goal by such a significant margin. "How did he become captain again?"

"Remmy's…working on it," Yumi defended with a mild huff as her Meister slumped his head in embarrassment, knowing just how hard he had been practicing over the course of the first part of the year to reign in his erratic accuracy. It was true that Sid had been working as much as he could to help Remmy get everything under control, but there was only so much that the G.W.A.A.R. instructor could do. While he did have them cleared for D and C-ranked missions and they had collected a total of eleven souls so far, the only reason they had made it that far was because of her bayonet. Still doubtful of his own capabilities as a marksman, Remmy's primary method of operation usually boiled down to using their scatter shot technique on the kishin egg to maim it, believing beforehand that he would miss if he tried a full round, and then use her bayonet for close quarters combat as she recovered from the backlash. It was far more of a hassle than simply putting the targets down with a single long range shot, but until they could come to a definitive root cause for his inaccuracies and remedy it, it was the best that they could do for the time being.

Retrieving a new ball, the game continued on with neither of the two sides able to gain any sort of advantage over the other. Trading strikes and saves, there were several occasions where it looked like Remmy and Shuvo's team were on the verge of a goal, only for it to be snatched away at the last possible moment by Ebb. Standing as the last line of defense for his team, the Gemini was a one man fortress against the onslaught of shots that came whizzing at him. Out on the opposite side of the field, their own goaltender was holding his own as well, but just barely.

Halftime came and went, and Mirika was quickly beginning to wonder if either team was ever going to score. While the game itself was fairly entertaining, she frankly wasn't much of a fan of soccer to begin with. There was too much back and forth, too many obscure rules that she couldn't keep up with, and not enough violence. All she really knew was that you couldn't touch the ball with your hands and that was about the jist of it. Sports like hockey and cage fighting were more up her particular alley.

"Hey, Mirika?" Yumi questioned offhandedly as the match continued on.

"What's up?" the older girl replied as she watched Shuvo take the ball and drive it out of his end of the field.

"I don't want to sound rude, and it's probably none of my business, but why do you not like Florence?" she questioned with timid curiosity, knowing that she was walking into what was assuredly taboo territory by asking.

"I dunno," Mirika replied evenly with a faint snort, never averting her eyes away from the game. "Why does a bear crap in the woods? Why does Lord Death freak out over symmetry? Why won't you just tell Shuvo that you have a crush on him?"

"W-W-What?!" Yumi shrieked at the sudden turnaround in questioning as her face flushed in mortified embarrassment. "I-I-I-!"

Smirking devilishly, Mirika couldn't help but let out a sadistic chuckle as Yumi squirmed like a worm beneath her thumb.

"What? You didn't think we haven't noticed?" she interrogated teasingly. "You cook for him, you cheer for him, you're always sneaking glances at him, and you think everything he says is fascinating. You're just like a little wife in training."

Melting into her seat as her brain matter all but turned to putty at the mention of the "W" word, Yumi never even noticed as the crowd around her, including Mirika, erupted into a collective roar of celebration, whooping and whistling as they stomped upon the metal bleachers.

"Holy crap, did you see that?!" the Khakkara Meister shouted in disbelief. "I have no idea how Shuvo got a piece of that one, but that was awesome!"

With bubblegum eyes lolled to the back of her head, all Yumi could hear was muffled words and the distinctive thumping of her heart within her chest.

* * *

"Joma Joma Dabarasa," Mabaa chanted lowly with her hand over her heart. "This Witches' Mass is now concluded."

Placing their hoods back over their heads and donning their coats, the witches began filing out of the archaic halls of their sanctuary with a dull murmur. Nothing of great productivity had been accomplished that night, with only more of the same stagnant talk being discussed regarding the current situations with Shibusen and the moon. Elder witches still held their ground against the integration, while the younger witches, while wary, were slowly beginning to come around to the idea of allowing their kind to join the Reaper's school.

Echoing faintly off the candle-lit walls as they walked along, Orobo stepped in time with Sibylla as they made their rather hasty exit. Despite his relaxed and casual façade, he was beginning to feel the gravity of the operation weighing down upon them as they closed rapidly upon their scheduled day for executing everything they had been planning.

"Were you able to fulfill your mission?" Sibylla questioned calmly as they headed down a barren stairwell that barreled down into the depths of the castle spire.

"Yes, Lady Brize. She's none the wiser," Orobo replied assuredly. "I don't anticipate any issues locating and retrieving her, but if everything goes according to plan then there shouldn't be any problems either way."

"I have faith in you, Orobo," the witch stated sincerely. "Because of your loyalty we'll be able to witness the dawning of a new age. One without Death or his order."

"My life is to you, Lady Brize," the guardian replied humbly. "It will be my honor to serve as your right hand in this brave new world."

* * *

**A/N: Sorry everyone, I know I said two weeks, but life happens. I've noticed that I don't really do much comedy/ zanny writing, so hope you enjoyed this one. Other than that not much to report on this end. **

**K.K. **


	22. Chaos Rising: Part I

Chapter 22: Chaos Rising: Part I: Set the Wheels of Fate in Motion?

"Angela? Where are you?"

Opening the sliding bamboo door of her home, Tsubaki donned a pair of slippers and stepped out of the cozy warmth of the interior and into the frigid night. Winter had fallen upon her quaint hometown in Japan, leaving fresh blankets of virgin white snow to cover the courtyard and cherry trees that surrounded the Nakatsukasa residence.

"Angela, are you out here?" she wondered aloud, moving along the covered porch in search of the young Chameleon Witch. "It's getting late. Time to get ready for bed."

Turning the corner along the porch illuminated by flickering paper lanterns, Tsubaki was met only by the serene silence of the December night as her breath appeared in wisps before her. Clutching her exposed arms as she searched around for the child, she chastised herself for not having grabbed a jacket beforehand.

"Angela," she called out once more, growing weary of this game of hide and seek. It was nice to see that she had been gaining control of her invisibility magic, but on that same token it could turn into quite the thorn in the Weapon's side when she tried to get her to settle in for the night.

Hearing the squeaking creak of a floorboard break the silence from behind her, Tsubaki spun around quickly to try to catch the elusive girl, but found only empty hallway to greet her. Moving back towards the sound of the disturbance, she approached the origin with a faint, playful smile.

"Oh, I wonder, oh wonder, where Angela could be," she announced in a lilting voice as she drew closer. Swiping her hand quickly over the railing of the porch, she scooped up a fistful of accumulated snow and scattered it out in front of her in a wide arc. Falling lightly about the floorboards, the powder failed to expose the little witch anywhere within its reach, leaving the Two Star befuddled.

"Huh, I could have sworn…" she muttered to herself, never once noticing the shadowy figure concealed within the wooden rafters directly above her. Spying the distracted target, the phantom made its move as it leapt down from the perch with a shrill battle cry.

"Yahoo!"

Like a pouncing lemur, the blackened figure latched itself onto Tsubaki's back, snaking its legs around her torso and reaching around to grab two generous handfuls of her breasts. Giving the ample orbs a firm squeeze, it held on for dear life as the buxom woman flailed about in panicked surprise. Running out into the frigid courtyard with a wailing cry, she reached behind her head and grabbed at her perverse attacker, giving a mighty tug that dislodged the short figure and sent them tumbling headlong into a freshly fallen cushion of powder.

Huffing heavily as her heart continued to race from the scare, the emergence of her partner's cackling laughter from behind alerted her to his presence. Whirling about, she saw Black Star perched atop the slanted rooftop of her home like a teal-haired gargoyle, chuckling hysterically at the scene below.

"Oh man, that was great!" he roared in a fit, clutching at his aching sides. "You should see the look on your face, Tsubaki! She got you good!"

Turning back around to the far flung attacker, Tsubaki saw Angela's distinctive googley-eyed hat pop up from beneath the snowfall, revealing the young witch covered near head to toe in a long black scarf that concealed half her face. Falling to the wayside as she lifted herself from the ground, Angela too let out a shrill giggle and a proud smile.

"An's a good ninja, isn't she?!" she cheered, brushing the accumulated snow from her dress.

"Sure is," Black Star declared as he slid down the roof and hopped onto the ground below. "Stick with me a while and maybe you'll be as good of an assassin as me one day."

Sighing audibly at the idea of Angela learning anything about being a covert assassin from the boisterous bushin, Tsubaki could only pray that the youngster chose to use her covert magic for uses other than the idiotic and lecherous things Black Star was teaching her to do.

"Alright, alright, you got me," she conceited with a cheerful smile. "C'mon, An, it's time to get ready for bed. You're going to catch a cold if you stay out here too long."

"Aww," the witch whined childishly, but followed the orders given to her anyways and made her way back inside.

Preparing a bath for the two of them, Tsubaki and Angela settled into the rising steam of the sizable tub and allowed their bodies to soak into the relaxing warmth of the water. Assisting the youngster, Tsubaki shampooed the witch's hair and washed her back, making sure to get behind her ears as well despite some protest. It was a comfortable habit that the two of them had fallen into since their time together, and the more the days went by the more Angela seemed to become more attached to the Two Star. As her volunteer caretakers, Tsubaki and Black Star knowingly placed the burden upon themselves of acting as her guardians, but little by little they slowly found themselves falling more into the roles of her adoptive older siblings than anything else.

Bathed and changed into their pajamas, Tsubaki tucked Angela into her futon and said her goodnights, giving the little girl a peck on the forehead before she left. Sliding the door shut, she made her way down the hallway to the room that she and Black Star shared and slipped inside. While she wouldn't have necessarily minded having Angela sleep in the same room as them, she was somewhat trying to ensure that the witch didn't become too overly dependent of her presence at all hours of the day. Both of them did need their space after all, and Black Star could be a bit of a handful when he unwillingly decided he wanted to fight imaginary enemies in his sleep.

Giving a tiresome yawn, Tsubaki felt the waves of weariness begin to wash over her as she settled in beneath the covers that she shared with her partner. People would often say that it was odd, and even a bit scandalous depending on who was talking, that the two of them chose to not only sleep in the same room together, but the same bed. She would sometimes find herself being lectured by one of the elder Nakatsukasas about the importance of saving such acts for a more sanctified bond, and while she did understand and acknowledge their concerns, she nevertheless continued the nightly habit all the same. She knew for a fact that there was nothing of a carnal nature happening when they crawled beneath the sheets, so in the end there was nothing to worry about. Black Star might have had his hormonal tendencies like all people his age, but when it came to matters of her wellbeing he treated her like a goddess. In fact, if their trip into the Book of Eibon had taught them all anything, she was the one who was more prone towards acting on deviant tendencies than he was.

Riding that fine line between blissful silence and sleep, the Two Star heard the sliding door to the room open and close, followed by the soft patter of the tatami mat rustling beneath footsteps.

"You awake, Tsubaki?" Black Star questioned with a hushed voice, slipping on an orange tank top with a yellow star in its center.

"Mmhmm," she confirmed sleepily, her face turned away from the bushin as she shifted about beneath her sheets to get comfortable. Hearing a faint click of the lamp being switched off, the bedroom fell into a tranquil darkness as her partner nestled in beside her, smelling faintly of lavender. It was a pleasant scent that she wasn't normally accustomed to finding on him, but she enjoyed it nonetheless.

That was the wonderful thing about the two of them being able to get away from the DWMA for even a little while, she mused. When he was surrounded by people, most notably Soul and Kid, his bravado acted as his front that he used to define himself. But here, away from it all, with nobody to impress or strike fear into the hearts of, he was more like his true self. Sure, he was still the egotistical knucklehead that she had come to know and adore, but when it was just them he was more relaxed and comfortable with himself. He didn't try to be showy or do anything of excessive exuberance to impress her, because both of them knew that there was no need for him to. There was nothing that he could do to make her think any less of him. If he wanted to use her lavender shampoo without worrying about being teased then she wasn't going to say a word about it.

"Hey…Black Star?" she questioned as they lied there in the still of the night, never opening her eyes or turning to face him as she spoke.

"Yeah?" he answered casually as he shifted about to find a comfortable position of his own.

"Do you ever wonder if we're doing the right thing…for Angela, I mean?" she pondered curiously as she tried to not let the blissful lull of sleep take hold of her just yet.

"What do you mean? She seems pretty happy," Black Star replied densely.

"I know she's happy, but I've just been wondering lately if we're the best thing for her," Tsubaki stated with a hint of worry in her tone. "I know she doesn't really have a place with the witches, but I still feel like sometimes she would be better off with them instead of at the Academy. Between the two of us teaching and the occasional mission we really can't be there for her all the time. On top of that we don't know anything about magic. What if we're accidentally holding her back?"

Feeling the blanket encompassing her shift slightly, she rolled over to see Black Star sitting upright with his arms wrapped around his knees, watching her with a befuddled expression.

"C'mon, Tsubaki, don't think like that," he said. "I mean sure, we can't be there for her all the time, but she's a lot better off here with us than with the witches. That's what's so great about the Academy. There're tons of people who can look after her when we're teaching or doing other stuff, and I'm pretty sure that Kim wouldn't mind teaching her all the magic stuff. Heck, or even that frog witch, what's-her-name. Trust me, Tsubaki, with people like you looking out for her she's got nothing to worry about."

Thankful for the darkness of the room, her cheeks flushed with a faint rosiness at the reassuring compliment.

"Yeah, you're right," she replied with a tiresome smile, feeling his words carrying her doubts away. "I guess I'm just worrying too much. Thanks, Black Star. Goodnight."

"No problem. Night, Tsubaki."

Rolling back onto her side, she felt Black Star lie back down beside her as the silence of the chilled winter's night cast its tranquil spell over the two of them. Soon enough, the only sounds to be heard were their faint breaths that moved in a steady rhythm to the rise and fall of their chests as they were lost to a wonderland of dreams.

Outside the Nakatsukasa residence, the ambient temperature began to gradually drop as the scattered clouds in the serene sky dissipated to reveal the blackened moon in all its shining onyx glory. Surrounded by stars all around, the faint twinkles of the glimmering jewels cast only a faint hint of light upon the earth below, offering just the tiniest glimpse of visibility in the otherwise blinding darkness.

Crunching lightly underfoot, the packs of snowfall gave way as a hooded figure treaded lightly through the forest surrounding the ninja clan's home, making sure that he remained undetected as he crept up stealthily to a small hilltop overlooking the residence. Adequately positioned just far enough away to where it could see the entirety of the complex without getting too close, he settled down behind a fallen log and began its patient observation. It was a tedious process that required self-discipline beyond what normal individuals were capable of handling, so it was absolutely critical that the one entrusted to the mission be as collected and hyperaware of their surroundings as possible.

Sitting still as stone, the hooded scout never once so much as moved to scratch an itch or wipe his nose from the bitter cold as the moon drifted slowly across the starry canvas above. Minutes passed by at an excruciating pace and the hours even more so. However, his patience was rewarded as at long last there came the faint buzzing of an insect hovering just beside his head. Lifting only a finger from beneath the folds of his cloak, the small fly landed upon his digit and scurried within the shelter of his clothing. Once inside, the little insect gave its report via a special series of buzzes and taps with its legs as it conveyed in fine detail the layout of what was inside the complex.

"Target is in northeastern-most room…alone…," Orobo confirmed at barely a whisper. "Star Clan boy and Nakatsukasa girl down the hallway…rest of clan on other end of complex…mostly elders…all asleep."

Pleased by the report, he opened up the collar of his cloak by a button, permitting five black and orange flies around the size of his thumb to crawl from their hiding place and down the length of his sleeve. Twitching their stingers as they entered the frigid nightly air, he gave his orders to the familiars.

"One for the target, double for the Star Clan and the Nakatsukasa girl," he instructed. "Leave the rest."

Understanding their assignment, the flies took off one by one into the darkness, leaving enough space between one another so that they didn't emit too much noise as they approached. Flying down below the overhang of the surrounding porch, they went up to the woodwork and scurried in through a small hole in the building. Making their way through the empty space between the walls and ceiling, they directed themselves to each of the assigned rooms and made their way inside. Fluttering gently within, they clung to the paper walls and ceiling as they observed their targets sleeping below through large compound eyes.

Spying upon their objectives, the insects swooped down in coordination, landing gently atop the pillows of the futons and crawling into position beside their unsuspecting heads. Then with the swiftness and elusiveness that was the hallmark trait of the fly family, they landed upon the humans' exposed necks, plunged their slender stingers into their flesh, and darted away in the blink of an eye. Scurrying in retreat before they were detected, they watched from their vantage point upon the wall as the Star Clan boy swatted at the side of his face with a subconscious grumble before rolling over with a snore. Neither the Nakatsukasa girl nor the target stirred at all. Satisfied that they had completed their assignment, the flies crawled into the woodworks from whence they came and emerged back out into the night to report their success.

Glad to know that the familiars hadn't been detected or raised any suspicions within the residence, Orobo waited patiently for another ten minutes before cautiously rising from his hideaway. Although the flies had done their job, the mission itself was still far from over and he couldn't afford to begin getting careless at this point. The importance of his success was far too grand for him to even think about what would happen if he made a complacent mistake now.

Step by covert step, he made his way down the small snowy hill and into the inner courtyard of the compound, paranoia following him like a plague as he constantly looked about to make sure that he hadn't been spotted. While he had been adamantly thorough in his scouting, the fact was never lost on him that this was the home of a ninja clan he was infiltrating. He could only imagine what sort of alarms or hidden traps lied in wait for him to make one false step as he moved silently from the inner courtyard to the surrounding porch.

Much to his thankful relief, he somehow managed to set off neither alarms or booby-traps. Following the information provided to him, he made his way to the northeastern corner of the building and ever-so gingerly cracked the sliding bamboo door open just enough for him to slip through before shutting it back into place. Arriving into a nearly pitch black hallway that was fortunately void of life, he crept along the lacquered wood floor towards the first door that was on his right, sliding it open with a faint creak as he poked his head inside. Sure enough, tucked tightly into her bedroll with a half-formed smile upon her face was the little Chameleon Witch, Angela Leon. Staring at the soundly sleeping child, a brief moment of pity washed over him, knowing full well that what was about to happen to her wasn't anything personal, but merely a means to a much greater end.

"I'm sorry for doing this, Angela," he whispered to the slumbering girl as he knelt down beside her. "But if it's any consolation to you, you're about to become the savior of an entire race."

Reaching beneath his cloak, he was about to finish the job when the wooden wall to his left exploded violently in a rain of paper and bamboo shrapnel. Jumping upright at the unexpected blast, the intruder was somewhat surprised to see the Star Clan boy, the one they called Black Star, standing in the gaping hole that he had created with a malicious scowl on his face. Poised with a short steel blade in hand, he kept his left arm raised in front of his face defensively.

"You must think you're a real big man trying to sneak into a god's house while he's sleeping," the assassin stated lowly as the dust began to settle around them. "Unfortunately for you, you're nowhere near the level of assassin that I am. Now spill it pal, who are you and what are you doing here? Better start talking before I cut you down to size."

Rising to his full height, Orobo turned to face the riled bushin with a curious, yet collected expression.

"You're both still standing?" he questioned, moreso to himself than the two guardians. "Well I can't say I'm terribly surprised. I thought that a double would be enough for you two, but I might have underestimated your resilience."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Black Star sneered in response before he felt a sharp pang of distortion interfere with his and Tsubaki's connected wavelengths. Feeling their bond sever, the ninja blade erupted into a flash of yellow as the Nakatsukasa emerged back in her human form upon the floor, curled up in the fetal position and clutching her sides.

"Tsubaki?! What's wrong?!" he questioned worriedly, dropping down beside her as she groaned in agony, tensing up as her body began to shake uncontrollably. He tried in vain to see what the matter was, but his medical knowledge was little to none. She didn't appear to have any visible injuries, so he deducted that it much have been something going on inside of her.

"You bastard, what did you do to her?!" he spat, shooting the cloaked phantom a venomous leer.

Noticing how the Nakatsukasa girl was left convulsing in a heap upon the floor, Orobo concluded that his prior deduction might have been a tad premature. While he had anticipated that a double dose of the flies' neurotoxin would have been enough to keep them in a state of sleep paralysis while he tended to the Chameleon Witch, it was apparent that the girl was having a negative reaction to their sting. That was an unfortunate reality when one was dealing with venoms. If the wrong number of doses or the wrong concentrations were administered, or if the immunology of the person in question didn't react as intended, the results could easily be fatal. Luckily for the girl, however, this wasn't such a case.

"She's not in any danger, but she will be in pain until her body begins to detox itself. Give her water and let her rest," he stated collectedly to the Star Clan boy, quickly reminding himself soon thereafter that now was not the time to show empathy. There was still the matter of retrieving the target and making a clean retreat that was far more pressing at the moment. Reaching into the folds of his cloak, he was just about to make off with his objective when he found himself thrown backwards by a ferocious display of force, crashing through the side of the building and back out into the night.

"Ultimate Move: Black Star Big Wave!" he heard the boy roar as his stomach caved in from the impacting elbow. Followed in by a vicious punch to his solar plexus, an almighty burst of soul wavelength erupted around him that channeled deep into his core before he was sent careening into the surrounding hillside, creating a long trench that uplifted the frozen earth and trees as he skidded to a violent halt.

Heeding no mind to the cold that lapped against his bare feet and tank top, Black Star approached the unfortunate victim of his attack with a menacing scowl.

"I'm going to make you pay for whatever it is you did to Tsubaki, but first you're going to tell me everything you know," he threatened as he reached down and took hold of the cloaked figure by the scruff of the collar, yanking him out of the indention his body had left in the earth. "So start talking. Who are you and what are you doing here?"

Slipping away from the figure's head as the bushin took hold of him, the concealing hood of the stranger's cloak fell to reveal the face of a young man several years his senior with a head of short, spiked hair cut neatly into rows. He hadn't noticed it as he approached the end of the crater, but the man had been mumbling something under his breath all the while.

"Jörmu, Jörmu, Gandr, Gandr,…Mun,Gan,Mun,…Jörmu, Jörmu, Gandr, Gandr. Helm of Awe!"

Parting his jaw wide, a molten stream of infernal magma erupted from the man's mouth, blasting directly in front of Black Star. Jumping backwards as the searing attack lapped at his exposed skin, the assassin missed being flambéed alive by mere inches as he landed once more in the frozen powder that blanketed the landscape around him.

"I really didn't want to have to fight you, Star Clan, but it appears that I don't have much of a choice in the matter anymore," the man stated easily as he rose to his feet.

"You should be scared! Even I wouldn't want to fight me!" Black Star retorted boastfully on the outside, while on the inside remaining somewhat wary of the firebreather. Something was definitely not right about this guy, he concluded. First off, that was definitely a magical attack that he had just used. And second, he was somehow still standing after his Big Wave attack. Not even Mifune had gotten up after his signature move, and that was back when he was only a fraction as strong as he was now.

"You assume too much, Star Clan. I'm well aware of your capabilities, but I'm not here to test myself against you. You're just another obstacle that I need to deal with. Helm of Awe!"

Releasing another stream of fiery napalm from the depths of his gut, the streak of hellish flame illuminated the hillside as the elemental attack was cast, setting the surrounding earth alight despite the thickened layers of snowfall. Lighting up the battlefield in a burning glow, Orobo's attack came forth in rapid bursts as Black Star weaved back and forth at an astonishing speed in order to dodge the incoming missiles. Zipping around each attack, his shadow barely had enough time to manifest before he was gone and in a completely different location.

"Try all you want, you'll never hit me!" Black Star proclaimed, appearing directly in front of Orobo before disappearing into thin air. Reemerging swiftly behind his opponent, he brought his elbow crashing into the man's spine and followed through with a vicious fist between the shoulder blades.

"Ultimate Move: Black Star Big Wave!" he cried, repeating his vicious strike as a field of static wavelength erupted all around them, sending the unsuspecting man flying once more across the winter landscape.

Stepping through the lingering flames that remained juxtaposed against the night, Black Star followed the path of the second trench that he had left scarred into the ground by his vicious display of power. Fallen trees and shattered branches lay strewn about in the fissure as he moved methodically closer to the foolish soul who had decided that he had wanted to test his mettle against him.

"What the hell?" he muttered in confounded disbelief, watching as the shadowy silhouette rose from the earth like the living dead, standing to his full height as he brushed the chunks of dirt and snow from his cloak stoically. "You've gotta be kidding me? Just who the hell is this guy?"

His answer came in the form of another incantation from the firebreather.

"Mun, Mun, Gan,… Jörmu, Jörmu, Mun, …Mun, Mun, Gan,…Jörmu, Jörmu, Mun. Helm of Awe: Brenna Serpent!"

Fueled from the depths of his soul, an elongated stream of molten flame emerged from his mouth that spiraled and contorted into the onyx sky before taking the shape of a monstrous, serpentine dragon. Shaking the world below with a volcanic roar, the elemental creature swooped down in a diving attack, spewing a wide arc of white-hot napalm that clung to anything that had the misfortune of being in its path. The accumulated snowfall instantaneously vaporized with a steaming hiss while shattered limbs and trunks of trees were incinerated into floating embers that danced off into the distance on churning black smoke. Even the earth itself was transformed into a wasteland of fire and brimstone, conjuring up images of the deepest fathoms of Pandemonium as Black Star sprinted to and fro across the battlefield to avoid being engulfed by the inferno.

"Dammit, this bastard's getting on my nerves!" the Meister seethed as his path was cut off by a towering wall of flame, forcing him to make a sharp turn as the Brenna Serpent slithered through the air in chase. Growling in aggravation that he didn't have Tsubaki with him, Black Star knew that he would have made quick work of the late-night intruder if he hadn't done whatever it was that he did to her. Fueling his anger at the thought of her lying there in a heap with nobody to tend to her, his resolve grew in intensity as he swore to get some answers from all of this, even if he had to beat them out.

Spying the still intact remains of an uprooted tree directly in front of him, Black Star wrapped the massive arbor in his arms and lifted it by the end with astonishing strength. Turning to face the blazing dragon, he swung out just as another rain of fire was about to be unleashed from the serpent's belly. Slamming headlong into the beast, the blow from the massive log traveled straight through the creature's head and down its scaly body, dissipating it in an explosive eruption. Dropping the tree with a resounding thud, Black Star covered his face with his forearms as the serpent dissolved into thin air, leaving only tiny embers to fall lightly to the ground.

"That thing wasn't so tough," he commented offhandedly to himself, disregarding the fact that his body was now layered lightly with soot and ash and his breathing in the very early stages of becoming labored from all his running around. Spying the arcane figure still standing easily in the firelight that danced off his form, he refocused himself and took off in another sprinting charge.

"Throw whatever you want at me, I'll take it on!" he shouted defiantly, his messy head of teal hair wafting behind him as he prepared himself for another menacing strike to the young man's soul wavelength. "There's nothing in this universe that's big enough to stop me!"

Barreling with reckless abandonment directly at Orobo, the magic wielder didn't have any time to counter as Black Star's fist rose sharply into his gut as he flooded the cloaked brunette with a terrifying amount of wavelength that sent the man launching into the sky. Allowing him no reprieve, Black Star took off with a bounding leap after his flying quarry, pummeling him over and over higher into the winter night with a relentless assault. It was only when the two of them had reached a deathly height where the Nakatsukasa complex was but a miniscule dot of yellow light through the thick of the clouds did he stop his pursuits, but only for a moment.

"Take this!" he roared, flipping forward midair to bring the heel of his foot slamming fiercely into the back of the man's skull, sending him rocketing headlong back down with an inhuman amount of force. Careening at a screaming velocity, the battered body slammed violently into the ground with an earth-shattering crash, leaving a wide crater to blemish the Japanese hillside.

Utilizing what little levitation ability he possessed to help ease his descent, Black Star returned from the heavens back to the earth, landing with a soft thud just on the edge of the basin. Looking down into its epicenter with a menacing, albeit curious, scowl, he found the body lying motionless and spread eagle within the indention. Then, to the bushin's inexplicable astonishment, one hand reached out from the hollowed pit, followed by the other as the resilient being lifted himself from the upturned soil and rose to his full height yet again.

"There's no way," Black Star stated dumbfoundedly.

Looking up from his place below the Meister, the burning firelight shone across Orobo's features as his hazel eyes locked onto Black Star's ones of tinted teal.

"You're certainly a formidable foe, Star Clan. I can see where you got your reputation," he announced evenly with a tinge of humorous satisfaction lacing his tongue. "I'm sure you're even more dangerous when you have that girl with you, but like I said before I didn't come here to challenge you. I have what I came for, so there's no need for us to continue. Maybe one day our paths will cross again and we'll have ourselves a real battle."

Dissolving like a mist on the wind, the man disappeared into the night along with the rest of the destructive scene. As though they had reverted back in time, the trees and earth surrounding Black Star returned to their state of normalcy, no longer alight with infernal flames or charred black, but covered once more with pure white powder and healthy to the touch. Nothing at all seemed to be any different than when the two had begun their fight, except for the shattered wooden log that now lay tauntingly in the center of the crater where the firebreather had been standing.

And just like that, the man and the destruction that he had brought with him were gone into the darkness just as quietly as they had appeared.

"Count on it, you bastard," Black Star growled lowly, swearing that this fight had only just begun. Letting out a frustrated huff of aggravation, a small puff of breath formed in front of him as he came to the awareness that his body was exposed once more to the elements, although he could honestly care less about that at the moment. His mind was far more preoccupied with the mysterious magic user and why absolutely nothing he dished out at him seemed to have any effect.

"Black Star!" a shrill, feminine voice rang out into the silent night, grabbing his attention.

Trudging forth through the snow in a thick white robe dotted with floral patterns, an elderly woman well into her eighties made her way through the cold with an irate aura about her.

"Granny?" he questioned, using the informal title for the elder Nakatsukasa as she stopped just in front of him. Despite the loose way he addressed her, Black Star had the upmost respect for the oldest living member of the ninja clan, who didn't appear to have lost much of her pep over the years despite her short and frail stature.

Reaching up with a wrinkled hand, the woman gave a firm whack to the boy's forehead, which he rubbed with a wince.

"Black Star, how many times do I have to tell you to stop fighting in your sleep?" she questioned with a vexed timbre. "Really child, all you think about is 'Warrior God' this and 'Warrior God' that. You're too darn obsessed with it sometimes, and it's starting to become a real nuisance."

"But-"

"No buts, young man," Granny Nakatsukasa cut off firmly. "You know I love you like one of my own, but you can't keep doing this. Just look at that hole you made in my house."

Following the woman's haggard finger, Black Star saw the gaping opening he had created when he first burst through the wall; the wall that led to the room where his partner still remained.

"Tsubaki!" he cried in panicked realization as he took off in a burst of speed back towards the residence as the sting of the cold lapped at his face. Hearing Granny's indecipherable shouts coming from behind him, he ignored them as he went barreling through the courtyard before jumping through the massive hole and back into the room.

"Tsubaki!" he exclaimed worriedly as he dropped down beside her. Finding his partner right where he had left her, she was curled into a tight ball, whimpering helplessly as she clutched her sides in a shivering pain. A cold sweat ran down her forehead and into her tangled black locks, spurred on by the winter's chill that flooded into the room.

"Hang on, Tsubaki! I'm going to go get you some help!" he assured frantically, standing to go rouse the rest of the clan before her words stopped him.

"Black Star," she groaned weakly before letting out a sharpened cry; tears of unbearable pain along with sorrow filling her wincing eyes. "An…He-He took An… I-I tried…I'm so sorry."

Reeling about, Black Star turned to the mattress beside him, hoping that by some miracle his partner had been mistaken. However, his fears were actualized when he found the bedspread completely empty; the thick blanket tucked neatly in place as though the little witch had never been sleeping there.

"No…" he murmured softly, at a complete loss of what to say or do. With his mind and heart racing, he quivered in place as the entirety of the situation began to permeate into him. Boiling blood was now coursing through his veins and he struggled to reign in his mixture of denial, despair, and vengeance as he sensed that old familiar side of him beginning to reawaken within his soul. Like a silent temptress, it beckoned him in its ways, trying to seduce him back onto a once abandoned path.

The sound of rushed footsteps and creaking bamboo planks from all around alerted him to the arrival of Granny Nakatsukasa and the rest of the clan, bringing him out of his daze as they hurried past him with a clamor to tend to Tsubaki. Barking orders to one another, they began interrogating Black Star about what had transpired, but he didn't hear a single word they said. His mind simply tuned them all out.

Rising from the floor, he trudged with painful steps towards the eldest of the clan and looked down upon her with sullen eyes and a straight face. Her own wrinkled features were painted with distraught as she saw what had become of her precious camellia blossom.

"Granny," Black Star addressed softly despite the shouting coming from behind him. "Contact Lord Death and tell him what happened right away. And make sure Tsubaki's alright."

Placing a firm hand upon her shoulder, the bushin brushed passed her to step back out into the night.

"Just where do you think you're going?!" the elder questioned in distress, on the brink of tears herself. "Explain this, Black Star! What happened to my granddaughter?!"

Trudging forth with his head hung low, Black Star's hair cast a long shadow over his face as he reentered the winter's chill.

"I'll be back, Granny," he replied solemnly. "I…I just need some air."

Vanishing in a flash, Black Star rose swiftly into the clouds with a mighty leap, feeling the rush of wind whip around his body as he fell gracefully within the depths of the forest. Repeating the motion over and over, he carried himself further from the source of his brooding emotions with each bound. As much as he wanted to stay by his partner's side, he honestly didn't think he could bear for her to see him in his current condition. He hadn't been defeated in the physical sense, not by any stretch of the imagination, but he felt like he had been regardless. When it came right down to it there was no other way around the fact that he had failed as a protector.

What kind of man was he supposed to be if he couldn't keep those he cared about safe? What right did he have to call himself a living god if he couldn't even protect his goddess?

However long he kept traveling, he didn't know. An hour? Two hours perhaps? He didn't care though. It was all just a muddled blur of nothingness in the end.

Finally halting in his aimless journey in a small clearing of a thicket, he watched stoically as the first glimmer of sunlight began to creep over the horizon line. Standing knee deep within the virgin snow, he turned his head upwards to the palate of indigo and pink above before letting loose with a titanic roar that seemed to shake the heavens themselves.

"Angela!"

Releasing every ounce of bottled-up rage and frustration that he carried with him, he slammed his fist into the ground before him, causing a monstrous quake to ripple out over the landscape. Bucking and rolling with the violent waves, tree trunks snapped and fell like rings of dominoes away from the source of the seismic upheaval, creating a perfectly circular pattern of destruction that radiated outwards for several kilometers.

Panting from amount of energy he unleashed, Black Star staggered to his feet and with eyes scrunched shut released another monstrous cry that rattled the gates of hell. Only when the echo of his feral shout finally diminished did he open his eyes back to the world around him, taking in the wasteland that he had created.

"I swear on my life, Angela, I won't rest until I find you," he vowed lowly with a sharpened gleam. "I don't care what it takes, I will bring you home."

* * *

Gliding along to the current of the winds, a faint, near indecipherable dot moved steadily over the expanse of the Asian continent towards the still slumbering towns of the Mediterranean. Greeted by the faintest glimpse of the laughing sun that had begun to peek out from over the eastern sky, bands of vibrant pinks and yellows played off the dull black and copper of two pairs of wings that flapped in steady rhythm to maintain altitude. Sharp and angular in appearance, the leathery appendages were held together by a framework of long, tapered bones that divided each wing into three sections.

It had taken weeks of planning and almost half a day since his departure for him to scout out the Nakatsukasa complex, infiltrate the residence, and retrieve the objective of his mission, but at long last Orobo had the final piece of the puzzle cradled within his arms. Sleeping soundly due to the fly's toxin, the little witch would probably be out for a while, but there was little time to waste. The Star Clan boy had proven to be a minor sidetrack from his mission, admittedly managing to catch him off guard with his first strike, but the distraction ultimately remained of little significance in the long run.

Beginning his decent, Orobo broke through the thin cloud cover and into the early morning breeze that swept in off the sea. Coming upon the massive hive-like home that dangled from the even more gargantuan olive tree that clung to the granite façade, he slowed his pace and flared his wings outwards as he stepped lightly onto the front terrace with cargo in hand. Allowing his wings to retract back within his cloak and into his body, he had barely reached the doorway when the portal was opened with anticipating vigor.

"Welcome home, Orobo," Sibylla greeted with a warm casualness and a faint smile of elation about her, parting a path for her faithful servant to come inside. Looking down into the young Chameleon Witch still in her pajamas tucked away in his arms, she couldn't believe their good fortune. She wondered for a fleeting moment if it was all but a dream.

"My apologies, Lady Brize. I wasn't able to escape completely undetected," he replied remorsefully with his head cast downwards as he laid the girl upon the couch in the living room. "That boy from the Star Clan was completely unaffected by your flies and managed to sense me in his sleep. I suppose all the rumors I've heard about him being more monster than human were true. He even managed to hit me with his soul wavelength. That wasn't exactly a pleasant feeling. I shouldn't have allowed it to happen though. Even when I took precautions I underestimated him."

"Oh no! No, no, no, no, no!" she countered quickly. "You have absolutely nothing to apologize for. You did a wonderful job, Orobo. I knew that there was nobody else but you I could trust to fulfill that mission."

"Thank you, my Lady," the man replied with humility.

"You must be absolutely exhausted," she observed, motioning for him to sit down and relax from his endeavor. "Here, let me get you something to eat."

"Please don't, my Lady. I can get it myself," Orobo remarked in protest, remaining on his feet despite Sibylla's insistence. However, it appeared that the witch wasn't having any of it as she shot him a look that, while in jest, was quite explicit that he should probably just take a load off and not complain. Figuring that to be the wisest course of action, he settled into a wicker chair beside the couch, watching as the roles of servitude were flipped on him by the woman as she disappeared into the kitchen. He couldn't say that he necessarily enjoyed it.

Releasing a faint yawn of relief, Orobo was finally able to breathe easy after his lengthy undertaking. Turning to the girl slumbering beside him on the plush couch, he felt like he could use a good long nap himself, but a fleeting thought reminded him that now that they had Angela, Lady Brize wouldn't want to loiter about. Their self-administered deadline was fast approaching and she had no intention of allowing it to slip idly by.

Although he fought defiantly against the blissful lull of tranquil silence and the heaviness of his eyelids, the firebreather soon succumbed to the land of dreams with his head lolled back against the wicker chair.

"Orobo," Sibylla called out from the kitchen, peeking her head out from around the corner to inquire about what the loyal boy would like to eat as his reward for a job well done. Finding both him and Angela asleep side by side, she smiled a small, humorous smile, and dismissed the idea of cooking his meal for the time being. Retreating upstairs, she retrieved two blankets and pillows and placed them gently beneath their weary heads.

"You did well today, my faithful mage," she whispered softly, covering Orobo with the throw. "I'm very proud of you. When this is all over with you'll have repaid your debt in kind."

"And as for you, little Angela Leon," she said, wrapping her up as well. "Your time is about to come."

* * *

**To be continued...**


	23. Chaos Rising: Part II

Chapter 23: Chaos Rising: Part II: From the Cradle to the Grave?

Gathered solemnly within the confines of the Shibusen infirmary, the fair majority of the members of Spartoi collected themselves silently around the single bed that housed their ill-stricken friend who remained under sedation to help ease her suffering. Slumped down in chairs or leaning with crossed arms against the walls, they all carried the same look of somber concern as they gazed with thousand-mile stares at the tiles on the floor with darkened rings under their eyes.

Reaching up to stifle an oncoming yawn, Maka forced herself to stay awake despite feeling like she had lead weights attached to her eyelids. The clock on the wall indicated that it was almost ten at night, but as far as she was concerned it might as well have been three in the morning. The past several hours had been a chaotic flurry of panicked exhaustion and her body was beginning to pay the toll dearly.

The whole frantic episode had begun almost ten hours ago, right around the time she, Ox, and Professor Stein had finished wrapping up administering their Ultimate Written Exam to their E.A.T. class. She had been gathering the finished tests when Kid himself had come over the intercom asking that Professor Stein and any available Spartoi members report to the dispensary immediately. Seeing the slight frown that formed on the Professor's face, all three of them knew that if he was being called into the infirmary then something serious must have happened to somebody that required his particular expertise. While Nygus herself was a skilled and knowledgeable nurse, Stein was the preferred choice when it came to more acute undertakings.

But who could it have been, she wondered as the three of them traveled with a heightened sense of purpose towards the infirmary? Everybody to her knowledge was present at the Academy except for Black Star, Tsubaki, Kim, and Jacqueline. The former were currently beginning their winter break in Japan and the latter were still in the Witches' Realm continuing their ambassadorships. She doubted it could have been them for any reason given Black Star being Black Star and Kim having her diplomatic immunity as well as her Regenerative Magic.

Hold on, she mused momentarily as they passed through the Academy's hallways. Hadn't Kilik been out on a mission in Zimbabwe the last time she heard? That must have been it, she concluded grimly to herself. Something must have happened to Kilik, or heaven forbid one of the Pots.

Expecting the worst, but silently hoping for the best, they made their way swiftly to the infirmary and were about to enter when Maka first hear the emerging sound. Striding closer to the door, her curiosity as well as her concern suddenly peaked for whoever it happened to be, which then quickly multiplied tenfold. From just beyond the other side of the door she could hear an agonizing wail of pain laced with heart-wrenching sobs. However, they weren't masculine at all or childish, as she had anticipated, but rather a familiar feminine voice that she knew all too well.

Rushing inside, the Professor and two assistants found Nygus hunched over a bedspread, tending however she knew how to an anguished Tsubaki, who was still clad in her pajamas and convulsing in a ball. Every joint and muscle in her body seemed to tense on its own accord, as though trying to coil her into the tightest bundle it could as she wept with each antagonizing spasm.

"What happened to her?" Stein asked evenly, but with an aura of concern as he moved quickly beside Nygus to analyze the situation.

"I'm not entirely sure. The only report I've gotten is that there was some kind of fight that broke out at the Nakatsukasa complex and that's all I know. She hasn't been able to say anything since she arrived," Nygus responded as she gave the senior medic room to examine the Weapon.

"Where's Black Star?" the stitched scientist questioned, leaning in closer as he took a small flashlight from his lab coat pocket and opened up a wincing eye in analysis.

"I'm not sure of that either. He wasn't with her when they brought her in."

Hearing Tsubaki let out another painful wail, Professor Stein calmly retreated over to one of the medicine cabinets and procured a small vial of clear liquid and two syringes. Taking one of the girl's shaking arms within his grip, he did his best to hold her steady as he inserted the needle into her vein and procured a sample of blood for examination. Handing the vial over to Nygus, he then filled the second syringe with the medicine and injected that into her arm.

"Her body's gone into shock. I'm going to put her under sedation for now while I run some tests," Stein stated, doing all that he could do for the time being as he let the elixir do its thing. "Once I know what it is we're dealing with then I'll know what to administer for a cure. There's no blunt force trauma or scars that I can see, so I don't believe that this was the result of any sort of physical altercation. Unfortunately, until she's well enough to tell us the whole story or until Black Star shows up then we really won't know for certain."

Watching the entirety of everything from her place off to the side and out of the way, Maka looked on in worrisome shock at the state of her dear friend. Seeing her in this condition, finally asleep with a heavy sheen of sweat and her tangled black hair strewn about reminded her too much of the time she had been forced to see Soul in nearly the exact same condition after their first encounter with Crona. However, this was obviously a far different situation than that one. With Crona and Ragnarok there had been a battle caused by clashing objectives, but this just didn't seem to make any sort of sense at all. Tsubaki had been on vacation, and in her own home for that matter, surrounded by not only Black Star, but the rest of her clan. Why, and how, would someone just attack her out of the blue? What was the reasoning for all of this?

And on that note, just where was Black Star? He would never just abandon Tsubaki like that, would he? No, something was terribly amiss here, but until Tsubaki was properly healed then none of them would truly know just what had happened.

Coming from just outside the door, the arrival of a gaggle of people momentarily brought Maka out of her anxious thoughts. Swinging inward, the entrance hailed the arrival of Lord Death, along with the Thompson Sisters, Soul, and Harvar hot on his heels.

"What's Tsubaki's status, Professor Stein?" Kid questioned with a calm demand as he moved into the infirmary. It was blatantly obvious that despite his collected demeanor there was a great deal of distress lacing his tone.

"She's under sedation for now and doesn't appear to be in any immediate danger, but we'll be keeping a close eye on her just to make sure," the scientist answered. "I've taken a blood sample to analyze and should have results within a few hours."

"That's good to hear," Kid nodded. "I know she's in good hands now that we've got her in your care."

Showing no reply to Lord Death's compliment, Professor Stein shook off the kind words and focused himself on the matter at hand.

"Has there been any update on the cause behind all of this? Or any word from Black Star?" Stein questioned evenly.

"Black Star's not here?" Soul wondered, looking around the room in obvious confusion.

"According to our report, the Nakatsukasa elder said that Black Star just ran off," Kid informed. "At first she believed it was just another case of him accidentally fighting in his sleep, but when he instructed her to contact me she knew that wasn't the case. Black Star never gave an explanation about what happened before he disappeared, but we have reason to believe that somebody did in fact infiltrate the Nakatsukasa complex and an altercation ensued."

"What do we know about the attackers? Have you gotten any word on a description of the individuals responsible or their possible motivation?" Nygus asked as her eyes leered seriously behind her wrappings.

"So far we have nothing on the person or persons responsible, but I have Azusa heading up the investigation as we speak," the shinigami answered. "She has several theories at the moment, but only two of them seem to be holding water. The first is that she believes that it could have possibly been an attempt on the Nakatsukasa elder council. As a clan of ninjas they've certainly made more than their fair share of enemies over the centuries and it wouldn't be the first time they've been the target of a rival clan. Although unlikely, it is just a hypothesis. The second theory is that the attackers might have been after Angela. She hasn't been seen since the attack and all the evidence right now points to her room being the origin of the fighting between Black Star and Tsubaki and whoever was responsible. We have reason to believe that she's been kidnapped."

Raising looks of concerned shock, the Spartoi members' alarmed expressions became increasingly more evident at the news. Although the thought of the Nakatsukasa clan becoming the target of a rival faction was troubling, it didn't seem to strike them nearly as much as the thought of someone kidnapping the little witch that they had come to know. Everyone was well aware of the strengthening bond that had developed between Tsubaki and Angela over the course of the last year, so the idea of any harm coming to her only added to their current woes.

"Why would anyone want to kidnap Angela?" Maka asked under her breath.

"She's a witch, remember?" Soul replied grimly. "There're a lot of people out there who would love to get their hands on a witch's soul, especially one as young as Angela."

"I know that," Maka rebutted weakly. "It's just…I don't know…why?"

"We still aren't sure if Angela herself was the target," Kid tried to console, but to no effect. "It might be that she could be used as collateral against the Nakatsukasas, although that doesn't make the situation any better. Hopefully Azusa will be able to shed some light on exactly what happened here shortly."

"I sure hope so," Maka replied, glancing with a heavy heart to her friend who lay in a drug-induced sleep mere feet away.

* * *

Time crept by at an agonizingly slow pace for all of them, spurred on by the uncomfortable aura that filled the infirmary. Nobody really said much as they waited in impatient anticipation for the diagnosis, lost in their own thoughts on the situation. It wasn't lost on any of them that their friends had been attacked by an enemy with an unknown provocation and objective, and beyond that they had nothing to go by. Waiting for the answers to come would prove to be almost as hard as glancing over to see the camellia blossom in her sedated state with a face that still remained scrunched in subconscious anguish.

Clapping softly with a reverberating echo down the barren hallway, the much anticipated arrival of footsteps and the clicking of the door handle turning brought her and the rest of Spartoi out of their glum musings and back into reality. All eyes now laid themselves upon Professor Stein, who had returned with a small vile in hand that contained the results of his efforts.

"So…what is it, Professor?" Ox questioned evenly, wishing to know the results for not only intellectual purposes, but for the wellbeing of his comrade as well.

Procuring a sterile syringe from one of the cabinets, Stein filled the needle with the clear liquid from his vile and gave the shot to Tsubaki.

"It appears that Tsubaki was injected with a form of neurotoxin," Stein replied, taking a moment to remove his glasses and wipe them off on the tail of his lab coat. "Based upon what I can tell, this specific toxin is designed to inhibit the body's neural receptors, particularly in the motor relay system. In essence, it's a numbing agent. It's also highly concentrated, meaning that its intent isn't to numb the victim, but to paralyze them completely. Tsubaki seems to have had a negative reaction to it, causing her to go into shock."

"She's going to be okay though, right?" Liz wondered concernedly.

"Yes, she's going to be just fine, although she might not be fully recovered for a while," Stein reassured, much to the collective relief of her friends. "This medicine should purge any traces of the toxin from her body, but there's not much I can do as far as her current physical state. There was a fair amount of time between when Lord Death was notified and when we were able to get her any sort of treatment, so her body has taken on a significant amount of strain. She's probably going to be on bed rest for a few days or so, but she should be back to normal after that."

"Thank goodness," the Demon Pistol said, able to breathe a little easier knowing that Professor Stein was on top of everything. The stress that had come from the last several hours certainly wasn't doing anything to help her maintain her youthful complexion. Between the days in and out of helping Kid run the DWMA and trying to have some resemblance of a normal life, having this whole debacle with Tsubaki being attacked added to the mix was wreaking havoc on both her mental and physical health; not that she was exactly in any position to complain at the moment given that one of her best girl friends was in the condition she was.

"I'm going to go back home and continue analyzing this toxin," the scientist explained with a stoic monotone to the Spartoi as his own mind became increasingly preoccupied by the myriad of questions that were currently plaguing him. "If by some chance Black Star happens to return by then be sure to send him to my lab. Naturally we all want to know everything about what happened to him and Tsubaki, so the sooner we can get some answers out of either of them the better. Any and all information that he has will be of use to us."

"Of course, Professor," Kid acknowledged evenly, gazing blankly at the white tile floor below his feet as he spoke. "If he shows up I'll be sure to send him your way once I get a chance to talk to him about what happened."

"I understand," Stein replied. "I think it would also be best that for the time being that we keep what happened to Tsubaki and Black Star to as few of confidents as possible. We don't want any information being leaked that might cause unnecessary panic through the rumor mills considering that we still don't have any answers. I trust that all of you can keep quiet about this until we have a better sense of clarity on the situation?"

Nodding their heads in confirmation, the Spartoi members didn't need to be told twice about keeping unwanted gossip about their friend from spreading throughout the Academy.

"You should all probably go home as well," Stein suggested. "It's getting late and there's honestly not a whole lot any of you can do for Tsubaki right now. Nygus and I can handle it from here."

"Thanks, Professor, but I think we're going to stay for a little while longer," Kid said with a faint smile of appreciation for his concern.

Recognizing the need for the teens to have some time to themselves, Stein gave an acknowledging nod and dismissed himself quietly to return home to his laboratory. Making his way through the hollow and darkened corridors of the Academy, he eventually made his way back out into the chilled desert night. Reaching absent-mindedly into the depths of his lab coat, the scientist fished around in vain for his cigarettes, wishing that he could have just one good drag to focus himself. Realizing his habitual mistake, he reached up and gave the screw embedded within his head a few clicking turns to clear his hazy mind, but the fuzziness didn't disappear completely. As though drawn by a silent calling, the scientist gazed upwards towards the blackened moon, feeling the ever present madness that continued to radiate from its core even after all the time that had passed.

"One day I'll dissect this feeling called intuition," he muttered to himself before descending the stone steps of the Academy to return to his work.

* * *

Seated easily within the comforts of one of her wicker chairs, Sibylla brought her cup of tea daintily to her lips as the fleeting hues of orange and red filtered into her living room with the falling sun. Setting the porcelain down upon its saucer with a faint clink, the herbal brew did little to calm her nerves despite her collective demeanor. The night was almost upon them, and then come the morrow everything would begin. The following day would bring with it the Winter Solstice; her chosen day of reckoning. Even if Shibusen had been able to piece together the evidence left behind by Orobo's fight with the Star Clan boy, there was nothing they would be able to do. The Reaper could bring an entire legion of Death Scythes to stop her, but it would all be for naught. If everything went exactly as she imagined it would, centuries of persecution at the hand of that oppressive shinigami and his successor would finally be atoned for and the farce of an alliance between the Coven and Shibusen would be severed for good.

Creaking audibly as footsteps decended her spiral staircase, Sibylla looked up to see Orobo coming down from his work with an exasperated look upon his features.

"Is everything prepared, Orobo?" she inquired.

"Yes, Lady Brize," the mage replied calmly as he rubbed his temples exhaustively. "We're ready to depart whenever you are."

"You seem tired," the witch pointed out observantly. "Do you need some more rest before we begin? We've waited this long, so we can certainly wait another hour or so for you to rest up."

"I appreciate the concern, my Lady, but I'm honestly not that tired," Orobo replied with a lowered voice, pointing his finger upwards towards the ceiling. "It's those buffoons. They're…insufferable, to put it politely. Especially Gopher and the Lust Noah. The comments they make towards you are crude and it's difficult for me to just sit back and do nothing."

"I know, but we'll only need their services for a little while longer. Just be patient," she consoled. "If you're ready to depart, then go fetch Angela if you would."

"Yes, my Lady."

Finishing off her brew, Sibylla ascended the staircase to the third floor of the structure. Coming up to the landing, she emerged into her elegant study brimming with mahogany furnishings, vibrant potted flora, and vivid paintings of insects of every kind. Moving into its depths, the witch came to an open space surrounded by the six Noahs and Gopher. In the center of the room was a sizable and elaborate magic circle written in chalk upon the floor boards.

"Is everything ready to begin?" Sibylla questioned, moving just outside the perimeter of the circle.

"Almost," Wrath Noah stated lowly with crossed arms. "There's still the matter of ensuring our end of the bargain. If we do this for you, I want your absolute word that when we give you what you want, you give us what we want. Because if you double cross us, there'll be no to telling to how fast I will hunt you down."

Unperturbed by the sorcerer's threat, the witch maintained her composure as she let on only the tiniest hint of a smirk.

"Now, Noah, there's no need to be like that," she replied coolly. "I've already told you before, everyone will walk away with what they want. The Book of Eibon will be yours again, I guarantee it. I have absolutely no intention of deceiving you."

"For your sake you better be right, witch" Noah tacked on beneath his breath.

From behind them, the creaking of the floorboards as her faithful ascended the staircase notified them of the arrival of the final member of their excursion. Surprised to see that the arcane minion wasn't alone, the Wrath Noah's eyes leered slightly at the little witch held fast asleep in his arms.

"What's with the girl?" he questioned with a hint of demand. "Don't tell me this was part of that 'last piece of business' that you were talking about."

"Indeed," Sibylla replied neutrally. "This child here is the true final key to fulfilling my plan. With her assistance we'll be able to herald the downfall of the Reaper."

"And what is it that makes the little brat so important?" Noah wondered skeptically.

"You'll see soon enough, my dear sorcerer," she said. "Although if I were you I would be wary of referring to her as a mere brat. You'll soon be addressing the next head of the witches."

Wondering momentarily just what the crazed woman meant by her remark, the picture became that much clearer into the finer unknown details that she had been keeping from them all this time.

"So that's it, huh? I think I see what's going on now," the temperamental man concluded with an arched brow. "You don't want that soul's power for yourself, do you? You're afraid of what it'll do to you, so you're going to use this girl as your scapegoat. With her as your trump card you'll manipulate her to stage a coup against the Coven and overthrow Maba. Then you'll make her the new Grand Witch while you pull the strings from the shadows. And once all the witches are under new management, you'll turn her power loose on the Reaper and his forces."

Listening to the Wrath Noah's personal assessment of her operation, Sibylla's lips could be seen turning downwards ever-so slightly before reshaping into her tell-tale coy smirk.

"My, my, aren't we the astute observer?" she stated coolly. "Your deduction is close, although not quite spot on I'm afraid. Although flattering, I don't consider myself nearly as cunning as you make me out to be. Hiding in the shadows and pulling the strings while the world tears itself apart was more of Medusa's forte than mine. However, I will give you credit for a well educated guess."

"So I take it that you're not in the sharing kind of mood to let us in on exactly what you're going to do with this girl?" Noah responded with a faint scoff, finding the witch's choice of words rather condescending.

"Oh no, I don't mind telling you in the least bit now that we're on the verge of setting everything in motion," Sibylla said playfully. "But where would the fun be in that? I think you'll find the surprises I have in store to be much more…compelling."

Growling lowly in irritation, it was plain to see by their expressions that the six Noahs and Gopher were rapidly growing weary of the witch's constant desire to keep the innermost workings of her operation from them. While in all reality it shouldn't have mattered given that their bargain had been struck and their endgame of destroying Shibusen and the Reaper were essentially the same, the fact that the woman persisted in her evasive ways did nothing to establish any manner of trust between them.

"I'm getting a little sick of you skirting around the details, witch," Wrath Noah stated with crossed arms. "Whatever. I don't really care about your surprises so long as I get the Book of Eibon back and get to unleash all this pent up rage on Shibusen. That's all I care about."

"Spoken like a man who knows exactly what he wants from the world," Sibylla said. "I can certainly respect such dedication to one's objectives. Well in that case shall we begin?"

"Is that even a serious question?" Noah countered, his irritable mood shifting to one of smug anticipation. "Brat, get the papers!"

"Yes, Noah-sama!" Gopher complied obediently, producing four copies of the book fragments and positioning them at each quadrant of the magic circle. Gathering within the circle, there was little room to spare as the six Noahs, Gopher, Orobo, Sibylla, and Angela were packed in tight to the confined space, much the annoyance of Gopher and Orobo especially.

"Remember, once we're inside the book there's no coming back," Wrath Noah announced. "The only way we're getting out is if this plan of yours works."

"Your caution is duly noted," Sibylla stated with a faint snide, collecting herself as she prepared to transport them within the Book of Eibon. She of all people knew the dangers of the journey she was about to embark on. If for some reason she were to fail, she and Orobo would forever be trapped within the book, surrounded on all sides by the madness of the Kishin Asura and the Demon Swordsman Crona. Not to mention their only companionship would be the Noahs and Gopher. She shuddered at the mere thought.

"Snee, bee, bee,…fly, sly, fly,…fly, snee, snee,…sly, bee, bee," she incanted as waves of orange and black magic began to manifest from her fingertips, causing the sacred runes beneath them to illuminate and a rushing whirlwind to manifest around them. "Snee, bee, bee…fly, sly, fly...fly, snee, snee…sly, bee, bee."

Bursting forth from the center of the circle, a brilliant flash of white light temporarily blinded the occupants of the room before the rift in space sucked them all in through its whirling dimensional vortex.

For Orobo, he found the sensation of being transported within the book to be a peculiarly foreign one. Although it was only for a brief moment, he couldn't feel his body within the aura of brilliantly pure white. Only once did he have the frame of mind to comprehend that he was surrounded by nothingness did he realize that he once more had solid footing within said nothingness. Gazing around curiously, it seemed that the remainder of their party had made it as well to whatever quizzical place the fragments had taken them.

And then he saw what he could only at first glance describe as an "it"; a queer creature that appeared to only be half-formed from the waist up. Comprised of what seemed to be torn pages of a book, it had a long triangular face with strange markings upon it that analyzed them with an unmoving facade. Other than this, the figure had no features to speak of.

"So you've returned at last, Noahs," it addressed to the sorcerers, floating about as ticker tapes of strange markings and runes appeared around it. "And of course you too, Gopher. It's been far too long. I am curious to know just how it was that you came to make your way past the madness surrounding this book. I can see that you have strangers amongst you as well. Have you brought me fellow seekers of limitless knowledge that wish to pursue enlightened thought?"

"Hardly," Wrath Noah replied, but in a peculiarly calm demeanor, as though he were reluctantly addressing a superior. "We managed to create artificial fragments of the book's pages and used them to transport here by a magic circle. But we can't afford to waste time chit-chatting. We're on an important mission and need to get to the Chapter of Greed."

Fluttering about the scene of nothingness, the odd little figure disregarded Noah's request and circled several times about the newcomers. Coming up to face level with Orobo, it analyzed him momentarily before speaking.

"You have the face of someone who is well read," it remarked as it hovered in place. "Tell me, am I correct in my deduction?"

Surprised by the creature's analysis of him, Orobo could only arch a quizzical brow as a half-formed smirk manifested itself.

"You are," he replied evenly. "My Lady has seen to it that I keep my mind and my wits sharp. I don't consider myself to be scholarly by any stretch of the imagination, although I do keep enjoy a good book when time permits me the luxury."

"Squidzactly-so," the creature said in apparent pride of its deduction. "So what sort of books does the young mage find pleasure in?"

Doing a small double-take at the queer figure, Orobo was equally impressed as he was skeptic of the strange entity.

"How do you know I'm a mage?" he questioned in turn, not allowing his tone to show any inclinations towards one answer or the other. "And if I might ask as well, just who, or what, exactly are you?"

"The Index… the Table of Contents… the Directory…call me what you will," it stated simply. "As for how I came to the conclusion that you are a mage and that your Lady and the child you're carrying with you are witches, it's quite elementary. I'm an entity formed from this magical book. It would be an insult against the power of these texts if I weren't knowledgeable in instinctively recognizing those who are themselves literate in the ways of magic."

"I see," Orobo hummed in obvious impression. "I always knew that the powers of the Book of Eibon were legendary, but I never could have imagined that even its pages could be sentient."

"Squidzactly-so, although you have yet to answer my previous question," the Index replied. "So I'll ask again, what manners of literature do you fancy?"

"Well I primarily read magical texts, although I am particularly fond of the philosophical works of Aurellius," the mage answered. "He had a very unique, yet practical view of the world. Him as well as the other classical philosophers."

"A most intellectual answer for one who doesn't consider himself to be a scholar," the Index said.

Observing the scene from the sidelines, the Noahs, most especially Wrath, were growing impatient with the idle back and forth that the Index was playing at. Stepping in, the Noah decided it was best to try to get the mission back on track before he did something too terribly brash. While he indeed was a powerful sorcerer in his own right, the Index in all fairness was his creator, so he was wise not to show his wrath in front of him. It had never been tested, but he was sure that the keeper of the book was just as, if not more, powerful that he was.

"While I hate to cut this lively discussion short, we have work to do," he interjected. "I'd like to get to the Chapter of Greed sooner rather than later. The faster this is all said and done, the better."

"I agree," Sibylla nodded in confirmation. While she herself was internally filled with fascination about the sort of wonders the Book of Eibon contained, she had a goal in mind and only a relatively short period of time with which to complete it.

Cocking its triangular head to the side, the Index appeared quizzically skeptical of why the Noahs and the strangers were so eager to make it to the Chapter of Greed, however it chose to refrain from prying. It found the prospect of observing the Noahs as they schemed and frittered about to be far more intriguing than simply inquiring as to what their intentions were.

"Very well then. I'll leave you to your devices," it stated, hovering off to the side as a swirling blackened rift in space opened up before them.

Stepping forward one by one, the Noah's and Gopher each trekked forth past the portal and disappeared from sight with the faint crackle of static coming from the gateway. Trailing at the rear, Wrath Noah watched on as Sibylla and her faithful exchanged glances before the witch proceeded with graceful steps. Following suit, Orobo and Wrath Noah entered the rift before it closed shut behind them.

"Take heed, strangers. In the end all that awaits you is madness," the Index commented to the emptiness before returning to his duties. "The only question to be had is what form will it take to consume your souls?"

Disappearing into the white, the figure left the foreigners to carry out their interests as they saw fit. What became of them because of the book was no longer of any concern to it.

* * *

Glancing about the peculiar new land that they had found themselves within, Orobo, Sibylla, Gopher, and now a single Noah all stood upon an ornate bridge crafted from shining gold. For as far as the eye could see there were monstrous statues crafted in the fashion of good fortune cats while spires of ornate marble and precious jewels towered against the skyline. Although there was hardly a cloud in the sky, dollar bills of every denomination rained down upon them in a continuous flutter.

"So this is the inside of the Book of Eibon," Sibylla observed in fascination, feeling the cold metal of the coins littering the ground beneath her bare feet. "Or at the very least the Chapter of Greed. It seems to be doing pretty well for itself."

"Tssk, that's an understatement," Wrath Noah snarked harshly, seemingly unimpressed as he stood with crossed arms. "Greed was just that. He wanted anything and everything. Money, power, status, women, you name it. The more rare or prized something was, the better for him. This chapter was his domain. Here the madness that comes from wanting more is insatiable. Nothing he got would ever be enough no matter how hard he tried."

"You say that as though he isn't here anymore," the witch commented. "Speaking of which, where have the rest of your doppelgangers disappeared to?"

"They've probably gone back to their own chapters. Things are more like home for them there anyways," he replied. "Not that they aren't interested in fulfilling the plan, but really all it takes is one of us to wield the book. Looks like I'm the lucky bastard who got left behind. As for Greed, he was destroyed by the current shinigami. The Index could probably make another one, but it looks like he hasn't bothered to."

"Well that's quite alright. In any case Wrath serves our means much more nicely than Greed, Sloth, or Lust," Sibylla stated casually, actually thankful that the rest of the Noahs had returned to their own chapters. Keeping up with six of them was beginning to become a real hassle and she could honestly make do without the dead weight. "So how do we find Greed's collection?"

Pointing off into the distance, Noah turned their gazed towards the side of a rising hilltop that shone as brilliantly as the sunlight that cast its rays upon it.

"In there," he stated lowly, indicating a magnificently monstrous building made entirely from ornate marble and stone with more than its fair share of gold accents. "He kept his most prized collection locked away in the basement of his manor."

Marveling at the sheer dimensions of the mansion, Sibylla concluded that it was more akin to a heavenly palace than anything else. Greed certainly didn't fail to live up to his sin.

"Shall we then?" she announced, leading the way over the bridge and into the town towards the lustrous testament.

Following suit, the party traversed through the surrounding village towards their destination, passing by monuments and public artworks of the most extravagant kind. Coming upon a main thoroughfare, people, or what they could only assume were apparitions of people, scurried in and out of shops of every kind. Nearly all of them were loaded down with colorful boxes and bags of various shapes and sizes as they hurried to and fro, enticed by the wares in the windows or beckoned by the calls of shop owners peddling their goods. Despite the fact that many of them were carrying far more than they were capable of holding, they continued on in their endless shopping spree all the same.

"Be careful," Noah stated as they moved forward. "Remember, this is the Chapter of Greed. It'll try to seduce you any way it can into wanting more. Once it has a hold of you, you'll keep chasing desire until you're crushed under the weight of your own coveting."

As if to illustrate his point, a man in front of them toting a towering pillar of boxes that stretched almost comically skyward strained to move even a single step forward, refusing to relinquish his hold on even a single one of his purchases. Before he knew it, his knees gave out from under him and the pile came crashing down atop him, burying him beneath their collective weight.

"A fitting end for a weak-hearted soul," Sibylla stated coolly, stepping past the man as his muffled cries for help could be heard from underneath his colorfully wrapped tomb. Disregarding them, the party trekked onwards, as did the other shoppers who paid no mind to the man or his calls of distress.

While Orobo was inclined to agree with his Lady on the matter of the unfortunate man's soul, he himself was finding it increasingly difficult to keep his mind focused on the task at hand. Passing by windows and dealers of every kind, he saw everything from the latest fashions to glimmering jewels to the most elegant sport cars one could imagine. Everything had its price, but the more he thought about it none of that really mattered in the end. The sky was literally raining money after all. He could have whatever he wanted and the cash would keep falling down in plenty.

And then he saw it behind the window to his right. Cast beneath the glow of a spotlight was an exquisite tea set of fine china. Crafted of pure white porcelain and marked in floral patterns of ornate blue, gold, and silver, he briefly imagined the pleasure it would give him to be able to serve Lady Brize her afternoon tea with such a fine collection. While she had never had any issue with the current set that he was using, he couldn't imagine any harm in procuring a better one for them.

Engraving itself into his mind, the price of the set was all of a sudden all he could think about. Setting Angela down upon the street, he saw a hundred dollar bill fluttering gently in the wind as it passed by him. Reaching out, he took hold of the money and stuffed it in the pocket of his cloak. Scanning around, a fifty crossed his path and he too procured it. Shuffling about on his hands and knees, he scavenged for bills and coins, lining his pockets without truly knowing just how much money he had actually collected.

"Just a little bit more and I'll have enough," he muttered, finding a gold coin and pocketing it before a looming shadow was cast over him.

"Orobo!" Sibylla snapped firmly, bringing her servant's attention back to the world around him. Casting his gaze up stupidly, his hazel eyes met his Lady's, which leered with a disapproving scowl.

"What are you doing?" she interrogated accusingly from above.

"I-I was going to get you something, my Lady," Orobo confessed with hesitation, as though trying to keep the gift a secret.

Turning her leer from the young mage to the storefront beside them, she too spied the elegant, albeit pricey, tea set and her scowl waned into a neutral façade.

"Were you going to get the china?" she wondered, to which she received only a simple nod of confirmation in response.

"I see," she stated, before side-stepping her faithful and entering the shop with the tinkle of a brass bell bouncing against the door. Making her way inside, she turned her eyes away from the various other wares for sale and strode swiftly to the window front where the set was on display. Then without hesitation she took single cup in her hand, as though to scrutinize it for its quality of craftsmanship, and in a single motion smashed it upon the floor. Shattering the fragile porcelain into tiny fragments, she swept her hand out angrily across the display, sending the collection crashing to the ground in a pile of broken shards and white dust.

"What the hell is going on out here?!" the shop owner cried, charging out from the back room at the commotion. "Hey, lady, just what do you think you're doing?! You better be able to pay for that!"

Stepping over the shards that covered the floor, Sibylla ignored the seething man's words and exited the shop with a casual grace. Striding over to her servant, she found him still upon the ground with his normally collected demeanor turned into one of appall by her brazen actions. Grabbing him by the scruff of his hood, she yanked him with deceptive strength and pulled him back to his feet. Turning him to face her, she forced his head down so that she could gaze directly at him.

"Listen to me good, Orobo. There's not a single thing in any one of these stores that you can buy that will bring me satisfaction," she stated firmly. "The only thing that I want right now is in the depths of that manor. So don't you dare fall into this book's traps. Your soul isn't weak like these imbeciles. I know that you have a stronger will than that. Now prove to me that you deserve to be my right hand."

Bursting forth from behind them, the door to the shop that she had just left slammed open to reveal the shop owner poised with a wooden club raised threateningly in hand.

"Hey, you better pay for that you crazy bitch!" he shouted for all the street to hear, waving his weapon in the air. It appeared lost upon the man that he could simply bend over and pick up all the compensation that he needed off the street, but he continued with his demand for reimbursement all the same.

Casting his eyes towards the man with a stern glare, the servant strode the few steps closer towards the owner with malicious intent. Reaching out, he caught the man's wrist in his hand and bent it painfully backwards, causing him to drop his club with an agonizing cry of pain. Lashing out with his other hand, Orobo took hold of the owner's shirt collar and lifted him several inches off the ground.

"I apologize for the damage done, Sir. However, nobody insults Lady Brize in front of me and gets away with it," he stated stoically before flinging the man through the glass storefront with ease. Disregarding the resounding crash of broken glass, wood, porcelain, and whatever else the owner had happened to impact, Orobo bent over and picked Angela up from the street and placed her sleeping form upon his back. Giving his Lady a knowing nod, the witch smirked in contention before they returned to their task at hand.

"I'm sorry, Orobo," Sibylla stated as they traveled past the myriad of momentarily stunned passerbys and deeper into the Chapter of Greed. "I didn't want to act like that towards you, but I figured it would be the only way to get you to snap out of the book's hold."

"There's no need to apologize, my Lady," he replied. "That tea set was grossly overpriced anyways."

* * *

The world had long since fallen dark as the cover of the mid-December's night cast its blanket over a tranquilly slumbering Death City, with only the faint fluttering of the desert breeze against the trees making a sound. Watching down upon them from the heavens, the blackened moon continued with its now typical cycle of blotting out any form of lux from the celestial body.

Within the darkened halls of the DWMA all was quiet and serene, and come two days time it would become even more so. Classes at the Academy had officially come to an end and now all there was left to do for the students was to wait in anxious anticipation as their professors graded their Ultimate Written Exams. They could then rest easy knowing they had triumphed over the challenge or sunk like a stone. After the class rankings were administered for the semester, they could then choose to go home for their winter break or stick around for the annual celebration of the founding of the DWMA. Many students and faculty alike had been skeptical when they heard Lord Death announce that he would continue the tradition considering that the Kishin Asura had been resurrected on that same night. While some continued to remain superstitious of the date, Lord Death assured them all that there was nothing to fear.

None of that seemed to matter to Black Star anymore. Leaned forward in a chair within the darkness of the Academy's dispensary, he gazed solemnly at his partner who remained in her sedated state beside him. Staying close to her side as she had always done for him, he found solace in knowing that she was truly alright following their attack in Japan.

"I'm sorry, Tsubaki. I shouldn't have left you like that," he muttered softly, taking her delicate hand within his to help ease his nerves. "I…I just needed to get away before I took my anger out on someone I shouldn't have. I swear I'll never do that again."

She couldn't hear him and he knew that, but silently he hoped that maybe, just maybe, his words would reach through to her somehow. Minutes passed by in a faded blur as he sat there with weary eyes, aching muscles, and a heavy heart.

"I can feel the demon growing inside me again, Tsubaki," he stated at long last, breaking the silence for his own benefit. "I thought I was done with it, but it's still there. It's trying to take me back onto that path."

He had never shown vulnerability before, but she was the only one who could possibly understand his burden.

"What do you think that bastard Mifune would say if he were here?" he questioned, moreso to himself than anything else. "What would he say if he found out Angela was taken on my watch?"

Although he had never told her, he could still see the samurai in his dreams. It was always the same one that replayed itself to him every now and then, as though it were a subtle reminder for him to not forget so easily the lessons he had learned through their encounters. There they were, back at Baba Yaga Castle, the two of them standing opposite one another with their blades drawn; Mifune reserved to his one single katana and him with Tsubaki's Severed Shadow kunai.

"Black Star, why do you hesitate?" the Sword God questioned evenly with piercing eyes as faint splatters of crimson ran across his face. "I abandoned my indecision long ago."

"You are no demon child, right?" he concluded.

Breaking her Severed Shadow form, Tsubaki snaked out around her Meister like tendrils of blackened ink, wrapping around his neck before reshaping within his grasp as her Masamune katana form.

"I have no indecision," the bushin stated lowly before the two made their final moves.

It was always then that he would awake, as though his mind wanted to vividly remind him of what had happened after that moment.

"We're going to find her, Tsubaki. I swear on my life that we're going to find her," he promised solemnly. "We'll bring her back here where she belongs…to her home."

Several moments of silence passed as the only sounds to be heard were the faint traces of breath coming from his partner. Hesitantly he allowed himself to separate his hand from hers and stood up.

"Get better soon, Tsubaki. I'll be waiting for you," he said as he opened the window to the outside and took off into the night.

As he bounded away from the Academy and over the sleeping homes of Death City, his mind took him back to the promise he had just made to her. While he had said that they would bring Angela back home together, he had also resolved within his soul that he would show no indecision in order to do so. He would find the cloaked man who had taken her from them along with whatever accomplices he had and he would cut them down without a shred of mercy.

That was a guarantee.

* * *

The Manor of Greed was as lavish and extravagant as its namesake suggested, almost to the point of being gaudy, Sibylla concluded. Everything from the floor to the walls to the ceiling was the most exquisite she had ever seen, surrounded on all sides by testaments to a sin of self-indulgence. Artworks and statues of every nature lined the gargantuan halls and around every corner lay a new treasure trove of only the finest collectibles.

Coming upon a door at the end of a winding corridor, Noah led the way as he opened the threshold.

"Down here," he instructed, descending the staircase that led into the depths of the cellar.

Following his guidance, Gopher, Orobo and Angela, and Sibylla trailed close behind him and were immediately aware of the drop in temperature around them. Moving farther into the unknown, they could see that the cellar was fashioned in the ways of an old speakeasy, with elegant hardwood flooring, low lights, and polished bartops. Walls upon walls of fine wines, liquors, and boxes of cigars filled every crevice and shelf, kept at the optimum conditions to preserve their richness. Wondering for a moment if Greed really had indulged himself in all of them or merely acquired them for the sheer sake of having them, they decided that the latter was deemed the most plausible.

"Dammit, I know we got work to do, but I could really go for a drink right now," Wrath mumbled, trying his best not to take a break from their journey and toss back a few stiff ones.

Jumping on the opportunity, his loyal minion scurried behind the bartop, procuring a short glass and a random bottle of whiskey.

"Here, let me fix you something, Noah-sama!" Gopher suggested jubilantly, unscrewing the cap to the bottle.

"Forget it, brat. We need to stay focused here," the sorcerer growled in aggravation, for once actually finding the lackey's idea to be not half bad. He probably would have even taken him up on the offer if they were operating under different circumstances. Moving behind the bar, he shooed his minion aside and knelt down upon the floor, fishing around until he found a metal ring subtly camouflaged against the wood. Giving the ring a forceful pull, a section of the floorboard came up to reveal a trapdoor that led even deeper below the manor.

"Ladies first," Wrath grinned mischievously, motioning for the witch to proceed.

Following the gesture with a sense of caution, Sibylla took a step forward before she was abruptly cut off by a hand in front of her.

"If you don't mind, my Lady, I will go first," Orobo stated evenly, not at all about to put her in the path of possible harm. While Noah and Gopher had been able to lead them this far into the Chapter of Greed, he remained ever vigilant of any underhanded schemes that the two might have been planning. Descending the hidden staircase, he conjured up a ball of flame in the palm of his right hand to illuminate his path while he shifted Angela so he could better steady her with his left. Traversing ever deeper into the darkness, the winding steps never seemed to end for them as the party moved on cautiously downwards.

Coming out of the unknown, a series of low rumbles and echoing snarls reached out to greet them with a cavernous echo.

"What is that?" Orobo questioned, halting momentarily in his pursuits.

"Greed's collection," Wrath smirked knowingly from behind.

Continuing onwards, the sounds grew in intensity and clarity until at long last the five of them found the bottom of the stairwell.

"Where to now?" the mage questioned, sensing the presence of many-a-something lurking just beyond his firelight.

As if to answer his question, a series of torches and flaming pits ignited on their own accord, driving back the darkness to reveal the basement's hidden terrors. Stacked upon one another in rows, shadowy, fiendish creatures of every shape and size lurched forward towards them, snarling and gnashing at the black steel bars that kept them confined. It was certainly a stark contrast to the lavishness of the manor several stories above, as though they had entered their own hellish version of the holding cages for the ancient Colosseum. Rather than lions, tigers, and bears sent to do battle with slaves, however, there were now monsters more frightening than anything one could imagine in their worst nightmares; each one of them at the command of whosoever wielded the Book of Eibon.

"Impressive," Sibylla commented coolly, unfazed by the myriad of teeth and claws that snapped and slashed at her from behind their cells.

"This isn't even the good stuff," Wrath stated, taking the lead once again as he headed down the row of cages. "The best monsters got destroyed by Shibusen when Greed battled them."

"Shame," the witch said simply, having no sympathy at all for the beasts that raged with primal savagery towards her.

Passing through the vast labyrinth of monsters, they wandered about at the mercy of Noah's guidance until they arrived at an elaborate archway supported by spiraling marble columns. Poised on either side of the gate like vigilant sentinels stood two figures with the heads of hounds, each of which held an outstretched torch in their hand that cast long, foreboding shadows across their canine features.

"This is it. We're here," Noah announced, gazing up at the looming effigies and the ancient runes that were carved into the stone above the archway. A single symbol in particular caught his eye that was positioned deliberately at the forefront of the wall; a large, elaborate circle of runes in resemblance to a wheel comprised of eight arrows that radiated outwards in equal increments from its center.

"Excellent work, Noah," Sibylla grinned in satisfaction, finding it harder and harder to hide her true elation.

Stepping past the threshold of the arch, they traveled down another elongated hallway lined to the brim with ancient depictions of the two repeating themes; hounds and the circle of arrows. Warily on edge, Orobo couldn't help but glance about at the illuminated figures of stone, imagining in his head that they might spring to life in defense of the treasure that they had been ordered to protect by an unknown force.

However, no such happenings occurred as they emerged into a vast, towering chamber of ornate white and gold marble and bronze. Like a temple that paid homage to an ancient empress, a gargantuan statue loomed before them depicting a three-faced woman with a slender, devilish creature in resemblance to a dog close to her side. Below the feet of the woman was the circular symbol once more, only this one was far more elegant and ornate than the rest. Carved of black stone and gold, it radiated outwards almost as wide as the cavernous chamber was round and contained a series of watchful eyes within each negative space.

"Can you feel it, Orobo?" Sibylla questioned, tilting her head back with eyes closed in euphoria, reaching up towards the tri-faced monument in a state of pure bliss. "This power coursing through the air? The flow of that soul wavelength? The madness that consumes it? It's absolutely heavenly."

At a loss for words, the young man could only nod his head in agreement. All around him the atmosphere was filled with a sheer power unlike any he had ever felt before. Dark and heavy, it weighed down upon him and the rest of the party like an invisible fog. He breathed it in, intoxicated by its overbearing nature that filled him with an unprecedented desire for nothing else than to destroy. And this wasn't even its truest essence.

"Alright then, let's begin, Orobo," Sibylla instructed, breaking him from the power's hold and bringing him back to reality.

"Yes, my Lady," he complied obediently. Shifting Angela from his back, he cradled the young witch in his arms as they approached a small circular altar that rose up in front of the gaping jaws of the stone devil dog. Placing the child gently upon the cold stone, he backed away and took his position opposite his Lady on the tip of one of the black arrows upon the floor.

Lifting her arms out in front of her, Sibylla began the ritual on her mark.

"Snee, bee, snee, fly, fly, sly,…fly, bee, snee, snee, sly, bee," she incanted rhythmically, steadily growing her magic as it began to flow from her fingers. "Snee, bee, snee, fly, fly, sly,…fly, bee, snee, snee, sly, bee."

"Jörmu, Gan, Gandr, Mun, Gan, Jörmu,…Gandr, Mun, Gandr, Jörmu, Mun, Gan," Orobo began in turn, syncing his own magic in with that of his Lady's. "Jörmu, Gan, Gandr, Mun, Gan, Jörmu,…Gandr, Mun, Gandr, Jörmu, Mun, Gan."

Rising up from around them, a mighty whirlwind began to manifest itself, fluttering the hair and clothing of everyone as sparks of magical static burst forth at random. From below their feet, the circular arrangement of onyx arrows began to illuminate a deep green and the runes around them shone a blinding white.

"Snee, bee, snee, fly, fly, sly,…fly, bee, snee, snee, sly, bee," Sibylla pressed on. "Snee, bee, snee, fly, fly, sly,…fly, bee, snee, snee, sly, bee."

"Jörmu, Gan, Gandr, Mun, Gan, Jörmu,…Gandr, Mun, Gandr, Jörmu, Mun, Gan," Orobo strained, feeling his magical reserves begin to wane. "Jörmu, Gan, Gandr, Mun, Gan, Jörmu,…Gandr, Mun, Gandr, Jörmu, Mun, Gan."

Fueled by their magical incantations, the eyes of the three-faced woman began to glow as well as those of her hound, empowering the flowing wavelength that radiated from their core.

"Noah-sama, what are they doing?!" Gopher questioned in awe, shielding his face from the tempest whirlwind that was spiraling swiftly throughout the chamber.

"Can't you feel it, brat!" Wrath Noah laughed manically at the scene with arms outstretched wide. "That power! That utterly destructive power! They're resurrecting it!"

"And it's all for me!" he grinned malevolently, watching with wide-eyed wonderment of it all unfold.

Radiating an aura of black and emerald, the altar beneath Angela too began to glow as the witch and her mage continued on with their complex series of spells. Rising up from its cold surface, the young witch's body began to levitate into the air, coming perilously close to finding its way within the awaiting jaws of the monstrous hound above.

"Snee, bee, snee, fly, fly, sly,…fly, bee, snee, snee, sly, bee."

"Jörmu, Gan, Gandr, Mun, Gan, Jörmu,…Gandr, Mun, Gandr, Jörmu, Mun, Gan."

"Snee, bee, snee, fly, fly, sly,…fly, bee, snee, snee, sly, bee."

"Jörmu, Gan, Gandr, Mun, Gan, Jörmu,…Gandr, Mun, Gandr, Jörmu, Mun, Gan."

"Snee, bee, snee, fly, fly, sly,…fly, bee, snee, snee, sly, bee!"

"Jörmu, Gan, Gandr, Mun, Gan, Jörmu,…Gandr, Mun, Gandr, Jörmu, Mun, Gan!"

Flashing forth in a pulsing burst, a wave of spherical black and green filled the chamber, snuffing out many of the torches and flaming cauldrons that dangled from the ceiling. Sending the cavern into near darkness, a panting and drained Sibylla cast her eyes upwards in ecstacy, watching as a single glowing orb of darkened violet emerged slowly from the jaws of the hound. Hovering in place momentarily, she could see the details of the soul before them; three sets of pointed dog-like ears jutting from the top of the soul in resemblance to a crown. Within the powerful essence there lay the circular symbol once more in black, as though peeking out through translucent purple glass.

Sinking lower, the soul descended upon Angela's levitating form, and an almighty pulse of soul wavelength burst out from the fusion, blowing all four onlookers back all the way to the far walls from its coursing wake.

Drained of almost all of her magical energy, Sibylla barely found the strength to stand on her own two feet, but nothing could stop her from witnessing such a wondrous moment such as this. Lifting herself up, she could feel the electricity in the air as the madness spread forth throughout the chamber. Letting loose with a maniacal cackle, she threw her hands outwards in maddened rapture.

"For over eight hundred years we've been persecuted by that wretched shinigami and his school!" she cried out. "Hunted for our souls and forced to live by the laws of Death, we witches hid ourselves in the shadows and used whatever means we could to protect ourselves! And now we've even fallen so far as to ally ourselves with the very thing that has eradicated us like vermin! Well no longer! Now begins a new era! One without Death or his order! Hail to the Mother Witch reborn…the Madness of Chaos…the Cradle of the Eighth! Hail to the true Grand Witch, now and forever!"

Disappearing into the air, the whirlwind ceased in its fury, allotting Orobo and Gopher to unshield their faces at last. Gazing up, all eyes now laid themselves upon Angela, who was now standing upright in her levitation. Fluttering her eyes, they opened to reveal that the little witch's irises were no longer their usual shade of rusted red, but now shone deep with a piercing forest green.

"Welcome back to the world, Hecate," Sibylla greeted with an enraptured grin, kneeling down upon the cold stone floor with her right hand over her heart. "Desolation never looked so divine."

* * *

**Author's Notes: So I suppose I have a lot of explaining to do. First and foremost, I really want to apologize to you guys for going AWOL. It wasn't really my choice, but a lot of things in my life sort of all happened at once and I had to put the fic on the back burner. I swear they're good reasons though. The first thing was I got a call from a female friend of mine who is going to an anime con and is cosplaying as Kairi from Kingdom Hearts. She bought a cheap Keyblade off of the internet, but me being a sucker for a pretty face I told her I'd make her a legit version of the Destiny's Embrace Keyblade. It took me almost two months to make, and not to toot my own horn, but it is seriously the most legit version ever made. I'm not talking some PVC pipe, paint, and a few flowers either. This is to scale, down to the finest detail the best one I've ever seen made from hardwood and steel. I actually kind of want to keep it (and I'm a guy haha). So there was that. If you're interested I'll post pics of it on my DA account for you guys to check out. On top of that my work changed my schedule, so right as I started working on the Keyblade they had me doing 6:30 AM to 4:30 PM. Waking up everyday at 5:30 and doing a ten hour shift, then coming straight home and working on the Keyblade SUCKED! But on the plus side I just quit my job to go travel across the country to pursue my passion. Now I have to pack up all my stuff and get moved, so the next chapter might be delayed a bit too (but not two months worth hopefully). **

**Now onto the story! There's a lot going on and I hope ya'll haven't forgotten what's happening as far as the plot. If so just let me know and I can clarify for you. The big thing here is I can finally explain what the circular arrow symbol is. It's the Symbol of Chaos. There's several versions of it, some with the circle and some without. I'm using the version that is symmetrical with the circle where the north, south, east, and west arrows are bolder than the other four. Hope this gives you a good visual of everything. **

**Again, sorry for being AWOL and I will try to churn out the next chapter as soon as time allows me. Stick around, the real fun is about to begin. **

**K.K. **


	24. Chaos Rising: Part III

Chapter 24: Chaos Rising: Part III: Ghosts Walking in the Witching Hour?

Subsiding into the blackness of the cavernous shrine, the raging tempest that moments ago swirled the air with a whipping flurry now faded away into mere nothingness as the four awestruck onlookers bore witness to the resurrection of a Warlord lost to time. Hovering above the stone altar as the few remnant flickers of torchlight played off her form, Angela awoke from her extended slumber and shuttered her now mossy eyes open to the world around her.

"Welcome back to the world, Hecate," Sibylla's voice reached out to receive her submissively. "Desolation never looked so divine."

Following his Lady's example, Orobo too dutifully knelt down and placed his hand over his heart out of equal parts obedience, respect, humility, and sheer terror. Casting his eyes downwards onto the black stone floor below, he inexplicably found it increasingly difficult for him to draw a breath as the thickness and gravity of the air around him seemed to multiply tenfold. Whether this was in part to the aura of madness that radiated outwards from the little witch before him or his own unsteady nerves, he honestly couldn't say for certain. He suddenly found himself recollecting when Medusa had released the Kishin Asura upon the world and how he had felt the effects of his madness. However, that paled in comparison to the raw sensation that he was now experiencing. Whereas Asura's wavelength had only given him moments of paranoia that were few and far between due to his own relatively collected personality, the radiance that was engulfing the subterranean chamber was far, far more potent.

Descending easily from her levitation, Angela's gaze shifted about observantly throughout the shrine, taking in her surroundings with quizzical intrigue. Touching back down upon the cold altar from whence she had been lain, she tilted her head upwards towards the stone ceiling with hands reaching out as she filled her lungs with a long, invigorating breath. Releasing it out in a steady stream, a low, icy chuckle escaped her in a voice that was not her own.

"Oh, where is your precious order now, Death?" she questioned in passionate rhetoric. "See how it shatters with ease as I stand here before your law and draw breath from this world once more? I never could fathom if it was ignorance or arrogance that kept you holding onto such a folly. Truly you would know by now that my law trumps yours. There is no such thing as order, only varying degrees of chaos. That is our true disposition."

Looking about her, the young witch took in her surroundings with a silent analytical gleam that was filled with intrigue while simultaneously tinting itself with the faintest hint of malice. Shifting her gaze about, she spied the figures of a young man and woman vaguely illuminated against the diminished firelight kneeling down before her with their heads cast low as well as two standing off in the far end of the chamber.

"Tell me, are you the ones responsible for my rebirthing?" she asked of the two evenly, her voice reverberating throughout the hollowness of the cavernous shrine with an indescribable aura of power as she stood atop her pedestal.

Keeping her eyes fixated on the black stone floor below, Sibylla maintained her submissive pose despite her wanting to stand and proclaim her marvelous achievement for all the world to bear witness.

"We are, Hecate," the woman replied with an elated smirk.

"And precisely who might you be?" Angela's form questioned in turn, her tone neither inviting nor demanding, but rather one of lilting inquiry.

"I am Sibylla Brize; the Lady Witch of the Flies and one of the last faithful devotees of Chaos Theory," she answered with pride, tilting her head up for the first time to feast her eyes upon the resurrected Mother Witch.

"And the boy?"

"Another one of your devout disciples as well as my personal servant," Sibylla explained, glancing over to the young man on the opposite end of the chamber who continued to keep his gaze held to the stone floor. "His name is Orobo Rύse. He is a mage and loyal to a fault."

Stepping lightly from the altar on which she looked down upon the two figures to the front and rear of her, Angela all but blatantly ignored the presence of the other two who remained standing in steadfast awe behind her fellow witch. She could sense all too well what they were. There was a particularly foul stench about them that even a thousand years wouldn't have caused her to forget.

"Then you have my personal gratitude, Sibylla Brize and Orobo Rύse," she stated as she leveled off onto the floor of the cavern. "Now, rise and come before me. There are many matters of things of which I would like to ask you."

Although it felt counterintuitive, the fire conjurer obeyed the child's command and rose with a faint hesitation to his feet. Trudging forth with unrushed steps towards Hecate and his Lady, he found his movements to be staggered and cumbersome, as though he were moving through a drunken haze. His mind had barely comprehended the witch's words as he moved across the ornate mosaic of arrows, his gaze drawn now upwards towards the colossal statue of the three-faced woman that towered before him. For reasons all but foreign to him, the only thing that he desired more than anything for but a fleeting moment was to see that masterfully crafted figure crumble into a mound of dust.

Blinking in awestruck wonder, the fuzziness dissipated to reveal the degradation already beginning to happen around him; those empty marble sockets staring hollowly back at him as the features about them disintegrated into tiny particles to erase any trace of the statue from existence. Beneath his feet, prominent fractures began to form across the wheel of arrow's surface, cracking and fissuring the stone as snaking roots and vines emerged from the depths of the earth to reclaim the temple as their own. From above, the chains and iron mounts that held the torches and cauldrons of fire in place became rusted and worn thin from corrosion, snapping under their weight and sending the large metal pots tumbling to the ground with a prominent clamor. Collapsing under the weight of fast-forwarding time, the domed ceiling too gave way to reveal the many levels of the manor above, which were now cast in a fiery glow as an infernal flame enveloped everything within its path. No treasure or materialistic possession of Greed's was spared as the scorching waves of fire rapidly consumed everything to ashes and splinters of smoldering framework, leaving nothing but the uncharacteristically calming hues of crimson and black of the sky to seep their way all the way back to down upon him within the shrine.

Mesmerized by the haunting beauty of it all, he saw the wicked crescent moon looming prominently over the earth; maniacal chuckles washing over the world while the tell-tale omen of blood filtered out from between clenched teeth.

"Orobo."

Shattering the vision, the mage was brought headlong back into reality as the scene around him returned to normalcy. Shaking himself alert, he found Lady Brize standing in front of him alongside Angela with a faint expression of concern about her while the little witch only wore a small, knowing smile.

"My apologies, Lady Brize. I'm not entirely sure what came over me," the young man stated in blatant befuddlement, shaking his head to reassure himself that what he had witnessed was in all actuality nothing more than a vivid hallucination brought about by the soul wavelength flowing from Hecate and nothing more. Silently he cursed himself, because he of all people should have known how to distinguish the difference between tangibility and illusion.

"That is but a mere glimpse into the power of the Madness of Chaos, young mage," Angela replied casually, appearing quite at ease despite the destructive temptations that filled the room in ambiance. "It's truly magnificent, is it not?"

"Indeed, Hecate" he confirmed hesitantly with a nod.

Raising a brow, the little witch easily detected the faint traces of reservation hidden within the fire conjurer's soul.

"You seem unsettled, Orobo," she noted observantly. "It's this child's body, is it not? Here, allow me to put you more at ease."

Lifting her hand above her head, a ball of onyx and emerald static coursed through her fingertips that she twirled in a small ring, causing Angela's body to become enveloped by a screen of dark green smoke. From outside the concealing veil, Sibylla, Orobo, Wrath, and Gopher could barely make out Angela's body rising upwards and expanding in proportion. Dissipating in a gusting pulse of power, Hecate cast the smoke aside with the simple wave of her hand.

Standing erect to her full height, the ancient form of Hecate was that of a woman near the realm of her mid-thirties by human standards with hints of mint green finding their way within her now silver head of hair that had been pulled back into a bun. Said bun was held in place by a series of four tapered golden rods that protruded through in eight equal segments, giving it the appearance of the Chaos Star radiating out from behind her.

Garnered in a silken white dress that had the appearance of a single strip of cloth spiraling over her upper body, Hecate's wears left little to the imagination as the strip began at her left hip and moved across the flat of her back beneath her right arm to come back to cover her ample breasts before flowing across her left shoulder to return to the point where the cloth intersected behind her. Affixed to that were two white strips adorned with dark green tassels and flowing accents that hung down between her lithe legs down to her knees to cover her front and rear while simultaneously leaving an enticing glimpse of her all the way up to just short of her hips.

It was certainly a body and outfit that radiated an aura of alluring divinity.

Stepping forward on raised heels, the Mother Witch came before the mage, meeting him at eye level as the faint remnants of firelight cast their glow across Hecate's truly revealed nature.

"Do you find this body to be more to your favor?" her question reverberated throughout the cavern with a wickedly playful seductiveness as she ran a pointed fingertip beneath the young man's chin and down to his chest, entwining the digit lightly around his scarf.

Casting his eyes downwards as Hecate moved around him, Orobo suppressed his flushing surprise at the sudden change in both the witch's form and demeanor.

"I-I didn't mean…Please don't allow me to dictate your wishes, Hecate. It's not my place to say," he stated submissively, maintaining his composure despite the overwhelming bombardment to his senses that came from both the Mother Witch's advance and the wavelength of discord that flowed with ever strengthening intensity from her soul.

"Don't be modest, you can speak your mind," Hecate breathed into his ear with a faint chuckling grin. "You helped to give me new life and for that you have my appreciation. A feat like that requires a special kind of person, and you are indeed a very special kind of person are you not?"

Remaining silent on the subject, Orobo kept his gaze fixed on the black tile below him.

"I can sense it within your soul that you're no mere mage, Orobo," Hecate continued with a whispering coo. "No, you're something much more than that…so much more."

Feeling her finger beneath his downcast chin lifting him back up to meet her gleam, Orobo showed some defiance at first as he kept his gaze turned away, but eventually found the strength to come face to face with the Mother Witch. Drawn into her eyes that were barely visible by the faintest flickers of light, he found their earthen-hue to be both unsettling yet serene as he stared into them for but a moment before turning away once more.

"Why do you carry that look of shame about you?" Hecate pondered with a deviant smile about her features, analyzing him with intrigue. "Do you feel pity for the child whose body I've inhabited?"

"No, that isn't it, Hecate" Orobo answered evenly. "We searched through many potential candidates to be your host, but Angela was always the only logical choice. She simply offered the least amount of potential resistance to either us or you because of her age and lack of magic. Even if her sacrifice wasn't her own, it wasn't in vain. It was necessary in order for us to fulfill our cause of bringing you back to life."

"Then why after all your troubles to resurrect me can you not bring yourself to look me in the eye?" she questioned with a certain tenderness to her voice.

Called out in front of his Lady by the Eighth Warlord herself, Orobo contemplated on the number of different answers he could have given for such an imposing question, but he knew that there was only one true reply he could give. It pained him to say it, but he concluded that he would look even more foolish if he declined to respond.

"I'm…afraid," he confessed, his voice showing just the faintest hint of quivering.

"To look upon me, or of me?" Hecate wondered with a raised brow.

"Of you and of myself," the mage declared in a whisper, casting aside his pride and displaying the weakness that lay beneath. "These feelings that I'm having…I don't know what to make of them, but they frighten me. I felt the Madness of Fear when Asura returned, but these thoughts that your Madness is giving me…they're absolutely terrifying."

"How so?" Hecate wondered with a creeping smirk. "Please, do tell."

"To speak of a legend and to be in the presence of that legend are two entirely different feelings," he explained. "In that same way, to speak of Chaos and to look it in the eye are acts that are worlds apart. For the first time I can feel the truest essence of what Chaos is and it fills me with a terror that even Asura couldn't bring upon me; not because of its overwhelming call for destruction and discord, but because for the first time in my life I feel as though I'll lose control over myself. That I'll be swallowed up by the Madness and become something that is not myself. If I am not myself, then what would I become?"

Looking upon the boy with a curious intrigue, Hecate once more gently motioned for the man to meet her. Despite his reservations, Orobo showed little resistance to her touch.

"To look Chaos in the eye is no weakness, my dear mage," the Mother Witch remarked softly. "On the contrary, to look Chaos in the eye is to release one's bonds that separate them from their truest natures. Those who are swallowed by the Madness of Chaos are those who have failed to realize what the universe truly is, but I know that you will not become one of those foolish souls, Orobo. You are indeed a devout disciple of Chaos, this I know to be a fact. Your soul tells me that."

Although he was still slow to release himself of his inhibitions, Orobo found it within himself to lift his downcast head and look upon Hecate with thankfulness for her endearing words that allowed him to realize himself once more and reinforce his convictions to their cause.

"It's clear to me that you are both devout to Chaos," Hecate continued, satisfied to see the young mage coming to terms with himself. "Although your earlier words are indeed are indeed reasons for concern, Sibylla. Enlighten me as to why you referred to yourselves as the last followers of Chaos? What has happened to the world in my absence?"

"It's a rather long and complicated story, Hecate," Sibylla said almost apologetically, wondering where she should begin with the tale that spanned over a thousand years. "Although I'm not entirely sure on the historical accuracy of everything seeing as how I was born around six hundred years after your disappearance, I have been able to piece together a rough timeline of events. From what I've discovered, in the aftermath of your untimely absence your fellow Warlord Asura was slowly consumed by the Madness of Fear, becoming a kishin. He became so deranged that he even swallowed his own Demon Weapon Vajra out of terror. For this Death stripped him of his blood, turned his body inside out, imprisoned him within a sack of his own skin, and confining him to the deepest levels of Shibusen; the school he created afterwards dedicated to finding Demon Weapon children and creating Death Scythes while also standing guard over Asura. After this, Death, Eibon, and Excalibur disbanded the Warlords and Death saw to it that any traces of their fallen allies' existence were wiped from the face of the earth. Eibon went into exile, and so for all the world knew only Death and Excalibur remained as the most powerful souls alive. As this was happening the Coven had been thrown into discord for centuries with numerous witches feuding for power, but eventually one prevailed; the current Grand Witch Maba. In all truthfulness she continued to battle the Grim Reaper's forces, but as Shibusen's networks expanded the witch population was mercilessly decimated to create his Death Scythes. The Coven was forced into the darkness, where we have been hiding ever since. While we still walk within Death's dominion, we've had to create spells to conceal our souls so that we can escape the sight of him and his school. This has led to several of the witches becoming so bold as to make a living within Death's own city, posing as ordinary humans. One of these witches even went so far as to infiltrate Shibusen and create a false identity as the school medic. Her name was Medusa Gorgon. Her intention was to recreate the Black Blood that flowed through Asura and resurrect him, and almost one year ago to the date she succeeded in accomplishing that goal."

Listening intently to the entirety of the Sibylla's depiction of history, Hecate's malevolent grin could be seen waning with each passing bit of news about the state of the witch race. However, the mention of her once fellow Warlord Asura being reborn brought back her smile in the ways of icy chuckle.

"And so Asura, now a kishin, has been running rampant spreading his Madness of Fear throughout the world?" she assumed, finding the ideas of both Death being deceived and Asura naively attempting to drown the world with his own misguided creed to be mildly amusing.

"Yes and no," Sibylla explained. "As it turns out, resurrecting Asura was only half of Medusa's grand scheme. You see, Medusa had a child named Crona that she infused with the same Black Blood as Asura. She trained this child to be her puppet, trying to turn it into a kishin that would surpass even Asura's power, and it almost succeeded. Asura was eventually found to be hiding within the moon and a grand battle occurred between Shibusen, Asura, and Crona. During this battle, Death's own son came before the Coven and pleaded to the Grand Witch Maba for the witches' assistance in defeating Asura, claiming that his threat was to all of the world and not just Shibusen. While at the time I didn't necessarily like the prospect of allying with Shibusen, the little Reaper did pose a valid argument against Asura. There was much resistance from the elder witches, but Maba agreed to assist in the battle and Shibusen was able to break through the defenses surrounding Asura and confront him head on. However, even with their combined forces Shibusen was still unable to fully defeat Asura."

"So Death had another child, and even the power of two Reapers proved incapable of defeating Asura a second time?" Hecate asked skeptically with a faint hum, her smile downturning into a straight-faced cogitation.

"Not exactly. When Asura was imprisoned the first time, Death bound his soul to his city, meaning he was unable to go in search of Asura upon his escape, so he had his son and his forces go in his stead. This force was unable to deal a decisive blow to Asura in the battle upon the moon, but low and behold the one to come to their timely rescue was none other than Medusa's own spawn, Crona. Using its own Madness and Black Blood along with one of Eibon's Demon Tools, the child created a prison of Black Blood to keep Asura and his Madness of Fear contained, trapping itself inside in order to do so. That is where they remain to this day, and as a result it happens to be where we are right now."

"Upon the moon?" the Mother Witch inquired with a raised brow, taken aback by the information of their current whereabouts.

"Indeed," Sibylla affirmed. "Although it may not appear like it, we are actually within the Book of Eibon, which was also imprisoned by Crona's Black Blood. In essence, only the pages of this book are what separate us from being swallowed up by the combined Madness of Asura and Crona."

Taking a moment to allow the information provided to permeate, Hecate touched her chin in contemplation as a concerned expression worked its way over her. She had deduced as much that they currently resided within the Book of Eibon, considering that it was the accursed sorcerer's doing that had led to her downfall in the first place. Likewise, the air around them was saturated with the vile man's aura and the two figures who remained just out of earshot radiated traces of his soul wavelength.

"So are you to say that in order for us to leave the confines of this wretched book I would have no other option but to confront my dearly deranged former ally along with a demon child whose Madness comes close to rivaling his own?" she pondered briefly as her tone grew firm and harsh. "Is that the reason you've so conveniently chosen to resurrect me after all this time? So that I might do battle with Asura and this Crona and vanquish them, ridding the world of their Madness once and for all?"

"Surely not, Hecate," Sibylla defended quickly, sensing the accusative way in which the Mother Witch had phrased the question. "Please believe me when I say that this moment has taken many centuries of meticulous research, careful planning, and painstaking waiting. Death had erased your existence from history, so much so that you are now only known in witches' lore by the title of 'Cradle'. You've been reduced to a mere child's fairy tale. But I knew that there was some truth to the legend, so we set out to find it. It wasn't at all easy, but as you can see we succeeded in the end. And while the circumstances involving Asura are purely coincidental, the honest reason that we sought out to resurrect you is because the entire witches' race is in danger of all but becoming extinct. The way of life for witches everywhere has been in jeopardy ever since Death founded his school, but now we are in more peril than ever before. You see, during the battle upon the moon Death's son ascended to a full shinigami and the Death that you once knew died. This new shinigami and Maba have forged a peace treaty between the witches and Shibusen, but it's only an alliance on paper and nothing more. While Shibusen has formally ceased the hunting of witches for their souls, they've taken to trying to integrate young witches into their ranks and other backhanded tactics to undermine our ways. I fear that over time the ways of witches and the Pull of Magic will disappear into oblivion. Hence why we need you now more than ever, Hecate. We beg of you to save our race and lead us into a new age where witches can live without the fear of Death or his order. Please bring back the true Pull of Magic known as Chaos and fill the hearts of every witch with its power. That has been my only intention this entire time."

Placing her hand over her heart and bending deep at the waist, Sibylla submissively offered up her pride before the Mother Witch, who stood over her with a faint leer of conflicting emotions. Following suit out of his own sense of loyalty, Orobo too bowed with his head hung low and his hand crossed over his chest in humble respects.

Turning about swiftly, Hecate strode with slow, deliberating steps as she paced back towards the three-headed statue that bared nothing of resemblance to her. Casting her eyes upwards, she cogitated on the state of both the world and the witches. While it appeared that Asura was no longer of any threat due in part to the actions of the demon child, he still posed an obstacle if she ever wished to escape from the confines of Eibon's book. As for the alliance between the current Grand Witch and Death's successor, the mere thought of witches having anything to do with the Reaper simply filled her with loathing contempt.

"So Death has died and now a new Grim Reaper has taken up his throne?" she mused to herself as she stared into the empty, vacant eyes of the depicted stranger. "And the only Warlords remaining are myself, Asura, that damned sorcerer Eibon, and…Excalibur."

Twisting her face into a sneer of utter repugnance, just the thought of the eccentric Holy Sword took her back to memories best left forgotten. Not even a millennium's time could completely erase the horrors of that insufferable…_thing._ She would gladly have taken another thousand years imprisoned within Eibon's book than have to spend a single minute listening to the obnoxious white blob of wasted life's ceaseless yammering.

"In any case, it appears that neither Eibon nor Excalibur posed any particular threat to Asura's revival, so I would find it hard pressed for them to come and confront me in any manner. Regardless, it would be incredibly rude of me to not go greet my former allies with open arms. Especially dear Eibon. I need to properly repay him in kind for everything he did to me."

With a sinister grin creeping about her features, the white-clad witch glanced over her shoulder to the two disciples of Chaos kneeling before her.

"So you wish for me to fill the hearts of witches everywhere with the power of Chaos, do you?!" Hecate questioned in dramatic rhetoric, baring her fanged canines in a nefarious grin as her heightened wavelength began to filter through. "Then consider your wish granted!"

Unleashing her unbridled Madness throughout the cavern, the last thing Sibylla could consciously comprehend was falling to her knees with her hands gripping tightly to her head, unwittingly trying to keep her mind from exploding from the sudden influx of destructive power. Feeling the cascading pulses of madness crashing like tidal waves against her soul, she found their sensation to be the pinnacle of blissful euphoria, almost to a fault. Try as she might to accept the madness in sizable dosages, the energy radiating from Hecate was simply too much for her to bear. After all the magical drain she had accumulated throughout her ventures into the Book of Eibon thus far, she had neither the strength nor the desire to resist Hecate's gift. Relinquishing her hold of her head to fully accept the Mother Witch's will, the world around her went dark as she happily succumbed to the Madness of the Eighth Warlord.

* * *

Surprised to find herself no longer within the chamber in which she had been a mere second ago, Sibylla panned her head about the dark and winding cobblestone street illuminated by candled streetlights that she now stood in the middle of. Moving around her, the street was alive with a clamor of voices as throngs of witches in pointed hats and hoods made their way up the avenue in an amassing exodus. Watching their faces as they passed by, Sibylla's amber irises grew wide upon the conclusion that she was on the main thoroughfare within the Witches' Realm. Moving steadily before her, she realized that the witches were not only ones she currently knew from the Coven, but were also those of ones she had known in a time that seemed so long ago.

"What is this?" she questioned in befuddlement in a voice that was higher in pitch than her usual self. "What's going on?"

"My Lady?"

Spinning about behind her, she recognized the voice as belonging to Orobo, who was standing watch over her with his hood pulled over his face. He was certainly taller than his usual stature, which was lithe enough as it was and gave her even more reason for concern.

"Is everything alright, Lady Brize?" the mage asked again with slight worry as he looked down upon her.

" N-…yes…everything's fine," the witch replied in a half-hearted lie as she tried to regain her bearings. "Orobo, what's happening? Where are all the witches going?"

"What do you mean, my Lady? We're going to Hallow Black Mass," Orobo stated in equal confusion as to why she would ask such a question. "Are you sure you're feeling alight? Should I take you back home?"

"No," she protested weakly as she tried to make heads or tails of what was happening, shaking her head softly. "No, I'm fine, Orobo."

Taking another moment to analyze her surroundings, Sibylla spied her reflection in the window of a storefront. Striding over to it, she found the face of her much younger self staring back at her. Indeed, looking down she found her body to be shorter and less curvy than her more mature self.

"How is this possible?" she asked to her reflection as she gazed upon her past self in quizzical analysis.

As though highlighted amongst the crowd of witches behind her, she spied a head of bright red hair beneath a pointed hat belonging to a girl of about sixteen by human standards. With her locks tied together into a long braid that flowed down her back, the girl wore a black and white collared dress blouse with a bolo tie resembling bat wings, a jagged thigh-length skirt of scarlet that flared out in a circle around her, and glossy black dress shoes. From beneath the teenage witch's hat, beady crimson eyes of her bat familiar could be seen peeking out as the flying creature dangled easily upside down from its perch.

"Salem?"

Feeling her chest lurch into her throat, Sibylla was barely able to force out the name of the girl from her lips. Twirling around, she thought for a moment that she must have truly gone insane. It simply wasn't possible, she reasoned.

"Salem!" she shouted in desperation for the girl to hear her, and to her elation the girl's head perked up and swung on a swivel toward the sound of her inquirer.

"Sibylla," the girl returned cheerfully at the mention of her name before raising a brow as she observed the way in which her friend approached her with an overly-cautious hesitation. "What's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Rendered speechless, Sibylla couldn't come to terms with what she was seeing. Reaching out a tentative hand, she touched the top of Salem's in the most hesitant of fashions, halfway expecting her fingers to pass through the apparition. However, her spirit soared when she felt the warmth of flesh beneath her touch. Given all the confirmation she could ever want, the young witch reached out and latched onto the redhead with all the strength she could muster. Burying her face in the crook of the girl's neck, the mental wall that she had erected as a strong-hearted witch all those centuries ago came crashing down around her as wells of tears flowed in rivulets to stain the blouse of the girl she so desperately clung onto.

"Siby-lla," Salem choked out as she strained against the crushing embrace. "What's gotten- into you?"

Hearing her voice in her ears after the many countless years that had slipped by brought a collage of childhood memories flooding back for the teenage Fly Witch in a torrent of emotion. Clenching her eyes even tighter, visions from days gone by played on the forefront of her mind as she refused to loosen her grip on the girl even the slightest. Days of their youth when her and Salem were just children meeting for the first time, learning to control their magic, and becoming inseparable sisters born of separate blood filled her with a nostalgic sorrow.

"I-I can't believe it," she managed to say. "It's really you."

"Of course it's me," the redhead wheezed, managing to get her hands between them to separate herself before she passed out due to lack of air. "Who else would it be? Are you sure you're feeling alright? You're acting as if you haven't seen me in years."

"I'm sorry," she apologized, wiping the wetness from her eyes on the back of her hand. "It's just that…it feels like it's been much longer than that."

"I was only gone for a week," Salem stated with her head cocked to the side, now thoroughly confused as to what was going on with her friend. "Did you really miss me that much?"

"More than you could imagine."

Remaining thoroughly unsure of what it was that had happened to Sibylla in the span of the last several days for her to be acting so strangely, Salem decided it best for her not to pry too much for the time being. It was probably something trivial anyways.

"Well I guess I did miss you too," she said with a cheeky grin. "But just a little bit. Now let's get moving. We're going to be late for Black Mass if we don't hurry."

Taking Sibylla's hand in her own, Salem led the two of them back through the throng of witches towards Orobo, who gave the two girls an inquiring glance from his Lady's emotional display. However, his worries disappeared when he saw the bright, joyful smile the two were wearing. Giving a confirming nod, the three set off up the street toward the arcane cathedral in which their sacred rituals would take place.

Closing her eyes as she walked along, all Sibylla could think about was the comforting warmth that radiated from her sister's hand. Giving a gentle squeeze, Salem returned the gesture endearingly; their souls connecting but for a fleeting moment before silence engulfed her world once more.

Awakening from her vision, the Fly Witch found herself slouched down upon the chilled stone floor with her head lolled back wearily towards the darkened ceiling of the cavern. Gazing with a blankened stare, she could barely make out the warmth of Salem's hand lingering within her own as it faded away into nothingness.

She had seen with her own eyes what had become of her beloved friend. Trying to force that memory down, she found the act to be in vain as the image that she had long kept suppressed imprinted itself in all its terrifying glory upon the forefront of her mind. Salem, with the crescent moon reflecting in her umber eyes as her torso was cut in twain by that damned scythe without remorse; its blade black as the night around them.

Even though Salem was still alive inside her memories, all she could see were the two halves of her body spread across the cool spring grass and the pale white of her face as she fought to find some words of parting, but could only mouth a simple sorry before her body was engulfed by twisting blackened ribbons; her glowing soul and her bat familiar the only memoirs left behind to serve as a reminder of the girl that once was.

That was the night she first stained her virgin hands with the blood of another.

Consumed by hatred and vengeance at the senseless atrocity the humans had committed in the name of the Grim Reaper, something happened to her within that moment that she would come to learn later on was the influence of the Pull of Magic. Like a silent tempter it seduced her with its promise that all of the wrongs could be made right if only she annihilated the source of her sorrow without clemency, and she gladly clung onto every word like a holy scripture. Empowered by the Pull, she embraced the swirling torrent of emotions that dwelled within her soul and rode the high of her newfound level for destructive magic in a state of heavenly ecstasy. She would have been lying to herself if she had said she didn't at all find pleasure in the carnage that followed suit. In fact, she reveled in it.

Death had sent four of his students to ambush her and Salem and dispose of them like lowly animals. She in turn gave him the pleasure of delivering four eulogies.

"Salem…" she managed to mutter softly as a single teardrop trailed its way down her cheek and onto the ground.

There she knelt now nearly three centuries after that fateful night, enraptured by that same consuming sensation of unyielding contempt and fiery fury that had overcome her all those years ago. Although she had remained committed to her endeavor since its inception, if there had been at any one point in time even a glimmer of reservation against her plan to go against the order of the Reaper it was now swept away on the churning waves of Madness crashing within her as she was vividly reminded why she set out to resurrect the Mother Witch in the first place.

"I see now. The Reaper took her from you, did he not?" Hecate's voice came through to her in stoic understanding. "You seek retribution for the heinous actions committed against your friend. Your deepest turmoil…your anguish…your vengeance…the chaos within your soul…they're all rooted in his doings."

"What Death did to me was nothing compared to what he did to Salem," Sibylla replied darkly. "No witch should ever have to endure such a cruel and twisted fate. For that he'll feel my retribution ten thousandfold."

"You would go so far as to extend punishment upon someone who had no hand in the crime perpetrated?" the Mother Witch smirked icily in reference to the new shinigami.

"It makes no difference to me," she stated, slowly gaining intensity as she spoke. "As far as I'm concerned the sins of the father are the sins of the son. I'll make this new Reaper know my pain all the same. His city will erupt in the flames of chaos and become the ruins they were always meant to be. His people will scatter like rats in the wake of our havoc and then they will truly know what it means to become the hunted. He'll be forced to watch as everything precious gets taken from him the same way they took her from me and every other witch who has ever felt the same loss I have! And then when he is nothing more than a pitiful, hollow shell of loss and despair, the entire witches' race will rejoice as they herald the downfall of Death and the rise of the Mother Witch reborn!"

Rising to her full height, she basked in the terrifying power that ran rampant through her soul as she collected herself. Breathing in the sensation, a cold chuckle escaped her as a sizable sphere of orange magic manifested itself within her hand, illuminating her features in a haunting glow.

"You should have finished me off that night instead, Death," she declared beneath her breath. "Because unlike myself, Salem might have shown you _some _mercy."

* * *

"So that's it, huh?! After all this time you're just going to give up on us?!" a shrill, feminine wail cried out in distress as a platter of simmering supper splattered with a resounding crash upon the floor. Swept aside in a fit of emotional anger, the perpetrator of the action slammed her delicate hands upon the wooden tabletop and leaned across the way, coming nearly face to face with the young man who sat collectively in front of her.

"I'm not giving up on you, Hel," Orobo attempted to explain to the slightly older brunette who leered with distraught before him, but the meaning behind his intentions had been lost the moment he had given any mention of his desires. "Please believe me, I'm not giving up on anyone. It's just-"

"Just what, Orobo?!" the woman demanded in a choking sob. "You just don't care what happens to us anymore?! Is that it?! Suddenly this isn't what you wanted?!"

"I never asked for it," the man replied with a disheartened timbre, dropping his head down to avert his eyes.

"None of us did, but it was the hand we were dealt!" Hel fired back in counterpoint. "I just don't understand it! You have a gift people would literally kill for! Now you want to throw it all away?! What on earth are you thinking?!"

Maintaining his silence, Orobo merely picked at his untouched meal in distraction, shifting his potatoes around absent-mindedly as he internally regretted ever bringing up the topic.

"I'm sorry, Hel, but it's my decision to make," he stated somberly.

"This is insane!" she cried. "Fen, do something! Help me talk some sense into him!"

Directing her plea for assistance across the quaint kitchen, her words found their way over to a man standing erect by the windowsill with his broad, muscular arms crossed over one another. Staring intently out into the evening sky, the red and yellow light of the setting sun cast its rays upon his silhouette. Clad in a simple attire of a black t-shirt and grey pants, he kept his back turn as he listened to the argument at hand unfold.

"Leave me out of this. Let him do what he wants," the man's spoke out lowly aggravation. "If he wants to go, let him go. He's already dead to me either way."

"Fen, don't say such things," the brunette implored.

"Tssk, look around you, Hel," the man snorted harshly. "This is it, the end of the line. Hate to break it to you, but one way or another this little fairy tale you've been living in was going to come to an end. Maybe it just came sooner than you thought."

Having lost any sense of appetite for the meal that grew luke warm before him, Orobo pondered at what point in time it might have gone wrong for them. There wasn't any particularly dramatic event that he could recall, although that isn't to say the schism hadn't been slowly and methodically working its way between them all along. He only catalyzed it to its breaking point.

The next thing he could comprehend, the world around him was dark save for the yellow lux of the grinning crescent moon illuminating the sky. Trekking forth with a pack around his shoulders, he gave one last glimpse of the home he had come to know and heaved a sigh weighted down with his burdensome guilt. He had said no words of parting, but left only a short note of apologies to Hel for having caused her so much grief beneath a single red candle burning in the wee hours of the early morning.

Stepping forward into the thick of the forest, the blackness of their canopy enveloped his world and all he could hear was the frantic huffing of labored breaths and the thumping of feet across the ground as they took off in sprint. It wasn't until a brief moment later that he came to the realization that the sounds he heard were coming from him.

Running. Ever since he left he had been running. Away from the guilt and shame of the way he had left things with Hel and Fen. Towards Death. Away from Death. Towards the unknown like a vagabond wandering about in a haze. He had no place to go back to or anyone on which he could call upon. Most of all he no longer had any faith in which to put anything. He was merely left to the purgatory that was infinite life without purpose or meaning, until that day fate would intervene.

There in front of him now stood a teenage girl with hair that was half orange and half black and eyes like glowing amber.

"_In the beginning there was nothingness," _he heard the young Lady's voice come forth from the depths of his memory. _"No light and no dark. No earth and no sky. No life and no death. And then from that nothingness…." _

"Chaos," he finished, knowing what she was going to say by heart.

How he wished he could sit down and speak with his younger self and explain the things he had come to learn in his span away from the alien place he once called home; to speak to the version of him that was once ignorant and blind to the actual nature of the world around him and his true convictions.

Awakening, all he could see was the white of pointed heels contrasting against the arrow below him as he pulled himself from his position upon the floor. Panting heavily, he lifted himself up wearily as he came to embrace the mental onslaught of Madness that washed over him.

"You were foolish, Orobo," Hecate berated simply. "It was naïve of you to have thought that _he_ would have been the answer to your woes. I'm inclined to agree with that woman from your past and say that you were indeed insane."

"But in the end you came to see the truth about what you really are," she said, shifting her tone to one of admirable praise. "You're a pariah to the system who lives outside the realm of absolute order. And that is where I would respectfully disagree with Hel. You don't have a gift, Orobo, No, you are the gift; one that will help to spread the ways of Chaos throughout the world. I already know of your convictions, but I would like to ask you again for my own satisfaction if you will take up this banner as we venture forth against Death? "

Shifting himself so that he was now looking directly upon Hecate, hazel met emerald without a shred of hesitation, finding the passion for Madness that shone within them.

"You have no reason to worry, Hecate," Orobo claimed firmly, conjuring a ball of flame within his palm that morphed into a slender dragon that slithered around him. "As you said, only those who have failed to embrace the chaos within them will be swallowed up in its wake. 'Ashes to ashes and dust to dust', as they say."

With a sinister grin creeping across her lips, Hecate whirled about on a dime and approached the looming statues that lay at the center of the chamer. Sending a wave of emerald light out in a pulse around them, the eyes of the fiendish hound effigy came to life in a glowing, bloody hue. Filling the cavern with a series of primal, feral snarls, shadowy masses sprung forth from those statues lining the hall leading into the chamber, moving about the floor and walls around the witch in a cyclone of blackened, smoky shadows before contorting into the form of ravenous, slender devil hounds. Lean and boney, they each sported pitch black coats that clung tight to their skeletal frames, accentuating their spiked vertebra and angular snouts. Spaded tails lashed to and fro as the pack congregated about their mistress while dozens upon dozens of jaws were parted to reveal the daggered teeth that snapped and drooled from over a millennia of deprived appetite.

"Oh my precious babies, how I've missed you," Hecate greeted lovingly, kneeling down to caress her familiars in motherly affection. Showing no resistance, the sinister hounds retuned the gesture by nuzzling up to the woman in spite of the feral snarls that continued to escape from between clenched muzzles and hackles on end.

Reverberating with a particularly sinister bark, all eyes were drawn upwards to the top of the stone canine, where a sizable hound with a coat like smoldering charcoal and shades of fiery red brimstone about its paws, ears, and tail stood tall and proud above its brethren. Swishing its flowing tail, the beast was more wolf-like upon first glance than the rest of the pack, sporting a lean and streamlined frame and a healthy covering of bushy fur about its chest. But even more divergent than its initial appearance was its demeanor, which was one of alpha superiority over the rest of the hounds. Whereas the skeletal canines snapped and growled with a savage primal instinct, the one before them teemed with a commanding refinement as it held its head up high for the dim firelight to play off of.

Leaping down from its perch, the pack parted a pathway for their alpha, allowing it to move unhindered before Hecate. Standing a good head above the white-clad witch, it lowered its scar-laden snout in humble greeting of its master.

"Inu, my sweet girl. It's been far too long," Hecate said, stroking the monster along its muzzle tenderly, earning herself a low, rumbling breath in response. "What say we catch up on lost time with our old friends and pay our respects to this new Grim Reaper? Give him and the world a taste of the chaos they've been longing for?"

Letting loose with a shrill, piercing howl that filled the chamber with a terrible, haunting echo, the beast announced her wholehearted approval as her master's intentions were laid down before them. Joining into the call of discord, the pack of sinister hounds followed suit, growling and snapping with foul intentions in a malevolent chorus of pandemonium that chilled Gopher, and admittedly Wrath as well, to the bone.

"Then let the Madness of Chaos rise once more!" Hecate cried with a deranged, banshee-like cackle. Whirling about swiftly, the Mother Witch sent a burst of green magic rocketing towards the two statues in the center of the chamber, connecting with them as the shot dissipated into the marble figures. A moment passed where nothing of immediate significance appeared to happen, but then as with Orobo's illusion, the effigies began to give way at an alarming rate, as though time itself had sped forward to crumble them into nothing more than monstrous heaps of shattered stone and lingering plumes of dust. Sending another burst into the walls and floor surrounding them, the entire chamber quaked and creaked as it gave way beneath the weight of the manor above it.

Exiting the shrine as it came crashing down behind them, Sibylla and Orobo followed the Mother Witch and her hounds down the hallway from whence they entered with an awestruck Gopher and pent up Wrath trailing behind them.

Their resolve to the Madness of Chaos was now one of purely zealous absolution. There was nothing on earth that would stand in her way of seeing her vision of a new world come to fruition. Hecate had been brought back to life and her Madness would soon fill the soul of every witch scattered throughout the world. The only obstacle that stood in their way now was making it past the Madness that surrounded the Book of Eibon.

* * *

**A/N: Hey everyone, how's it going? So since the last installment of our story I've quit my job, packed up my stuff, and moved all the way to the north side of the country to pursue my passion. I'm now living the small town life in Michigan and have a place way out in the boonies with no internet or cable. So yeah, going native for a few months. Its not that bad though. Only thing is I have to go into town and bum wi-fi from a coffee shop or something to upload chapters. **

**So onto the story. Man, this chapter was a pain to write. It just didn't go together nearly as seamlessly as I had first hoped and I had to keep writing and rewriting and editing to get it to where I was happy with it. The main thing I wanted to touch base on before we venture too much farther is the concept of the Madness of Chaos and chaos in general. I've done a lot of back reading and research on the subject, and its one of those things that looks simple, but is very multi-dimensional. Chaos as I write it is several dimensions. Without giving too much away, chaos is the opposing philosophy to order. It is the root origin of the Pull of Magic (the Pull in its truest form). Its what drives witches to the desire to destroy, but its more than just that as we'll see. Thus, witches are more succeptible to it than your average person, although the Madness effects everything it touches. (On that note, Orobo is a mage, not a witch. The Madness doesn't affect him like Sibylla). **

**More will be revealed as we progress, but I think that's enough for you all to digest for now. I hope the next chapter will come a little bit more smoothly and quickly. **

**P.S: Many thanks to What2Do for being a great supporter of this fic. Its meant a lot to have you continuously reviewing. If you come back from retirement let me know. **


	25. The Titanomachy Ecliptic

Chapter 25: The Titanomachy Ecliptic: Crack the Oblivion Sky?

For as long as they could remember their world was one shrouded in the darkness. Born into it, raised by it, and living within it, they had found themselves becoming entwined with the blackened void that seemed so insistently adamant on sharing their fate with them. Even on those days when the daylight of the laughing sun high above cast its warmth upon them, there was still darkness in the form of their shadow. And such was the darkness, ever bound to keep pace beside them for so long as they walked the earth.

In the beginning they didn't like the darkness. It was forced upon them for reasons they didn't entirely comprehend, terrifying them with the endless unknowns that lurked just beyond their sight and out of reach. Thus they backed themselves into that corner and curled into a protective shell so that those phantoms that resided within the cold, silent black couldn't harm them. And there they stayed, left to themselves with only the darkness and their own thoughts to keep them company until that undisclosed time would come when the doorway that confined them would open. She would be standing there, just beyond its threshold with a certain scowl about her that was one of both analytical curiosity and uncaring exasperation. She would then give them the opportunity to relieve themselves from the darkness, but they could never find it within themselves to fulfill the means to her conditions. And so the door would close, leaving them to the absolute darkness once more for the cycle to repeat itself as many times as she found necessary. That is, until the day they found it within themselves to leave on their own power. When they passed out of the darkness and back into the light, the black had become every bit as part of them as their own flesh and blood.

But then again, their blood _was _black, you know?

Perhaps then that was why they found the unyielding expanse of utter darkness that currently enveloped them to be so comforting in its familiarity. No…comfort was the wrong word to properly convey the feelings that they were having for their situation. For them to be comfortable was something else entirely. Perhaps the better way for them to put it would be contention. Whatever it may be, it was the feeling that stemmed from their coming to terms with the events that had slowly accumulated throughout their lifetime and lead them to the present moment. While they couldn't necessarily say that they embraced the boundless black that they themselves kept in place, they at the very least found a faint level of acceptance in what they had done in order to protect the one sliver of light in their otherwise blackened world.

Maka; the one whose gentle compassion and unrelenting courage had somehow broken past the many barriers they had constructed to keep those people and emotions that were alien far and away. In their place she had built a bridge founded on empathy, friendship, and trust, and despite having betrayed that trust once before, Maka had gone so far as to even bestow upon them the gift of forgiveness. It was a gift that was still foreign to them, for they still knew not what "crimes" or "sins" that they had committed that required atonement, but they nevertheless found a certain sense of solace in her having forgiven them regardless.

Even though it made no difference because of the pitch black already surrounding them, if they closed their eyes they could still see her face as though she were standing right before them. They could see the tenderness within her eyes and the joyful smile upon her face, and for but a few fleeting seconds they almost feel the warmth of her soul touching their own. It was a calming, yet somewhat sorrowful reminder of the reason they continued to hold fast to their convictions and maintain the prison where they found themselves playing the roles of both warden and inmate.

Curled up in their ball as they floated within the nothingness, they clung onto the only two reminders that Maka had left behind; the book that she had chopped them over the head with and a small cube adorned with strange markings. Hugging the objects close to their chest protectively, the faintest glimmer of a smile crept over their face.

"_Thinking about that girl again are you?" _

Coming out of the voided expanse, the Kishin's question reverberated around them calmly with a certain connotation of sadistic amusement, as though he took enjoyment in guessing what the pinkette was musing on. Although in all reality it was an elementary assumption considering the events that had transpired prior to his imprisonment within the child's Mad Blood. It was the doings of that Scythe Meister and her Weapon that had given the Demon Swordman the means to infuse their Madness with Eibon's BREW in the first place.

"Go away,' Crona answered to the void with a timbre that, while characteristically meek, contained a newfound sense of firmness to it.

"_That's a rather contradictory request," _Asura replied simply. _"You wish for me to leave you to your own devices, yet I have nowhere to go to with you so vigilantly keeping me contained the way you do. However, it doesn't matter in the least to me whether we sit here in utter silence for a millennia or not, because I can see that the pillar of strength that you used to construct this domain is already beginning to fracture. And it's all thanks to that girl."_

"I said go away," Crona reiterated, rolling over to turn their back to the Kishin, but it was a futile act. Asura resided within the darkness itself; an omnipresent force that couldn't be tuned out or wished away no matter how hard they tried.

"_She's like a poison, that girl," _the Kishin remarked neutrally. _"That same courage and hope that she filled you with will eventually be your undoing. You'll sit here in this abyss that you yourself created and cling to her image like a deranged fool in hopes that she'll come to your rescue, and all the while the clock will slowly slip away. The days of empty promises will turn into years, and as you come to the rather inconvenient revelation that she's all but forgotten about you, your precious pillars will come crashing down. You'll come to realize that everything about her and the so called 'virtues' she and my younger kin place on a golden pedestal are nothing more than hollow fabrications. Friendship…loyalty…trust…these are only words without substance. The longer you weigh yourself down with such humanly ideals, the further you'll sink into despair. You'll fall back down into your little rabbit hole and all that will await you at the bottom is Madness." _

Choosing not to respond to the voice's words, Crona's grip only tightened around the Book of Eibon and BREW. This was just another example of the underhanded tactic that the Kishin insisted on using upon them. After they had managed to seal Asura away within their orb of Mad Blood, he had shown a surprising lack of confrontation given his current predicament. He never physically lashed out at them in attack, but seemed almost sadistically satisfied to merely hide within the shadows and provoke them with his serpentine ways.

"_I'm a liar, you say? She'll come back for us, you say? What nonsense. You would actually wait for as long as it takes disregarding the simple fact that in order to see her again you'll have to eventually remove these walls that keep the both of us inside here? What course of action would you take then? Would we merely resume our battle from before with you knowing full well that none of you have the power to defeat me, including that new Reaper of theirs? In that case the mere farce of you keeping the two of us here is in and of itself an act of futility. You're only delaying the inevitability of my release and in the process torturing yourself by separating yourself from her. Why not save yourself the turmoil and end this so that you might actually have a chance to see her before the Madness envelopes everything in existence?" _

A moment of silence of passed where Asura allowed his logic to seep into the Demon Swordsman, observing them quizzically in anticipation of their reaction.

"I'm not going to let you leave," Crona stated firmly at last. "If I do you'll hurt Maka. I won't let that happen."

"_So of all those roads that lead to your conclusive end you choose the one which would give neither you nor her even a moment of satisfaction?" _Asura questioned with humorous intrigue. _"And they say I'm the one who's insane." _

"You wouldn't understand," Crona's responded simply. "You don't have any friends."

Bursting forth from the darkness with a terrifying roar of aggravated rage, Asura's physical form filled the entirety of the space before Crona with mouth parted wide as though intending to swallow the Demon Swordsman whole.

"You insolent, stubborn child!" the Kishin cried with a maniacal fury. "Just how blind can one be?! How many times must I repeat myself before it sinks into that primitive lump of meat you call a brain that you humans cannot win against the Madness?! Sooner or later this prison of yours will be opened and I will be free to cast dread over the world once more! I don't understand it! Why?! Why do you persist in defying your fate?! It's all hopeless, can't you see?! I'm a being whose power transcends even the shinigami himself, yet you still choose to believe in a weak little girl who has all but abandoned you here on this desolate piece of rock floating in the sky! I don't get it!"

Remaining unfazed as Asura went on his deranged rant, Crona merely smiled softly in response to everything that the Kishin was screaming.

"No, of course you don't get it," they said in the face of the ancient Warlord as a faint flutter of wind began to spiral around them as they spoke. "You can't understand because you don't realize that Maka isn't weak. I know that she hasn't forgotten about us and she will find a way to defeat you because I believe in her and she believes in me."

Observing the way in which the whirlwind around the child was picking up with every passing moment, Asura cocked his head in blatant perplexion of the scene before him as a faint white light began to emerge from between the pages of the Book of Eibon clutched within the Demon Swordsman's arms.

"What the hell is this?!" he questioned demandingly, retreating back from the radiance in a showing of fear. "What are you doing?!"

Looking down to the glowing aura that was driving back the darkness around them, Crona couldn't come to any explanation for what was happening either. Perhaps something in the way they had stood their ground against the Kishin or had made such a definitive proclamation for Maka had triggered a reaction of sorts from the book, but they honestly couldn't say for certain. Nevertheless, something was beginning to happen to the Book of Eibon that filled them with an anxious intrigue and for the first time since they had sealed themselves within this sphere of Mad Blood they loosened their hold on the book. They couldn't understand why, but they instinctually felt that they needed to let the archaic text be free to fulfill whatever means it required to fulfill its end goal.

Opening wide on its own accord, the light emitting from the pages of the book infused itself within the intensifying spiral of air, creating a cyclone of brilliant, blinding white. Rippling and twisting in a flurry, the tempest suddenly collapsed in upon itself only to burst outwards in a grand shockwave that caused the Demon Swordsman to shield their eyes.

Sensing the soul wavelength that intruded the darkness before they even looked upon it, Crona could feel that whatever, or whoever, had emerged from the Book of Eibon most certainly wasn't anything resembling Maka. It teemed with an aura that they had become but all too familiar with throughout the course of their lifetime, and for a second they thought they might have somehow been bearing witness to the return of _her_, but they couldn't comprehend how that would have been possible_._ However, there was something significantly unsettling in the air that conflicted them with emotions as they concluded that the wavelength that was emitting from the Book of Eibon did not in fact belong to their deceased mother. It also did nothing to ease their anxiousness as they tentatively lowered their arm from their face to look upon the source of the disturbance within their otherwise unperturbed realm.

Standing now before them was a woman they had never seen before clad in an unabashed dress composed of a single strip of white cloth that twisted around her back and across her bosom. Silvery hair with hints of green amongst it was pulled up into a tight bun atop her head, and they almost would have said there was a particular beauty about her were it not for the foreboding sensation they were receiving from the mystery woman's soul that brimmed with a power that seemed nearly on par with that of the Kishin's. Were it not for their utilization of BREW, they most certainly would have been overwhelmed by the sum of the two souls pressing down upon them.

"Who are you?" they questioned warily, being neither meek nor demanding in their inquiry, but speaking with a firmness that also carried with it an extreme sense of precaution.

Shifting around to face the Demon Swordman, their eyes met briefly as the woman opened her mouth to give some form of reply before she was abruptly cut off by the sound of maniacal laughter bursting forth from all around them. Cackling dementedly in a fit of deranged hysteria, the Kishin's voice slowly subsided in its omnipresence and focused in on a single point in the distance as he emerged from the depths of the darkness in his humanoid form, grinning ear to ear as he clenched his face in his palm.

"Being confined within this Madness must have somehow gotten the better of me," he stated with a disturbed smile as he trudged with unrushed steps closer to the woman and Crona. "Because it would appear that by some inner workings of that deliciously twisted mistress known as fate that I've been graced by the ghost of a face I'd nearly forgotten."

Stepping a few feet closer, Asura continued to maintain his distance from the woman as he observed her with anxious delirium, as though the fear that consumed him was in a current struggle with his desire to see what she in actuality really was.

"What reason do you have for being here?" the Kishin questioned lowly in analysis, his demeanor shifting to one of sternness as his head drooped slightly downward and he gave a piercing leer from behind his black and white bangs. "Are you but a phantasm of the Madness that dwells within this place, come as some incarnate of past memories to torment me so? Wait…no…why am I asking such a rudimentary question? The answer is already laid out there before me. That distinctive wavelength and that uniquely peculiar brand of Madness that flow from your core; they're unmistakable even after over a millennia. There's no doubt to be had here."

Lifting his head upwards once more to gaze intently upon the white-clad woman, the dementedly sly smile had returned to Asura's features as he allowed the significance of his conclusion to permeate for a brief, silent moment.

"Well isn't this quite the unforeseen surprise, Hecate?" he stated with a malevolently humorous chuckle. "If my memory serves me correctly, the last time our paths had crossed your soul had been quite literally separated from your flesh and bone and collected within the depths of your former mentor's magic book. Ah, yes, it's all coming back to me now. Who could forget that battle between you two that nearly tore the world asunder in its wake? The Second Betrayal, as the Reaper would call its aftermath."

"Good to see you as well, Asura, although I would be wary about bringing up events of the past if I were you," the Mother Witch replied calmly, unperturbed by the Kishin's not-so subtle jab. "You were the third to fall not long after myself, or so I've heard. Skinned alive, stripped of your blood, and imprisoned within a sack of your own flesh? That's quite the way to go, even at the hands of the Reaper. At the very least my fall, however temporary, was of the more honorable variety."

"Is that really what you believe?" Asura rebutted with a faint snort of contempt. "What a foolish notion. There is no 'honor' in anything. It's but a fragile fallacy conceived by humanly ideals to instill some sense of justification in their actions; a label for the monkeys to put on things so that they might find their self-worth greater than that of another's when in all actuality they are all nothing. But that is beside the point. Even if there were such a thing as an honorable death, yours surely wasn't one. I seem to recall that pitiful way you looked upon Eibon as he delivered that decisive blow. Your face was wrought with rage and distraught, and dare I say, betrayal, as you succumbed to the reality that every ideal you held so loftily had come crashing down upon you. The so-called 'Madness of Chaos' that you kept in such high regard, while admittedly somewhat admirable in its defiance of the shinigami's sense of order, was ultimately proven to be as insignificant as your own life."

Maintaining her steadfast composure in light of Asura's bold proclamations, Hecate glared slightly at her former ally, saying nothing for several moments as she mused on the matter. Then, curling her lips into a wry smile, she let out a faint scoff of contradiction.

"Indeed, in the grand workings of Chaos the value of my own life holds little value, but what would that make your own Madness, Asura?" she questioned with an icy chuckle. "Did your philosophies somehow prove to have significance whereas mine did not despite the two of us suffering similar demises? Or for that matter the significance of your own existence?"

"Dread and terror are the very fabric of my being whereas yours are merely flesh and blood," the Kishin replied lowly. "I'm an entity whose capacity transcends all others; an immortal who cannot be killed by either a Death Scythe or the Grim Reaper who wields it. You, on the other hand, are the embodiment of nothing. You were not stripped and then molded from the Reaper's soul, nor was your Madness. You merely adopted your Madness, but I was created in the image of mine. In essence, it's simply because I'm the embodiment of fear itself that my life and Madness are of far greater significance and power than yours could ever hope to fathom."

"Tread lightly upon arrogance, Asura," Hecate warned darkly, knowing that she should have expected as much of an answer from the deranged soul before her. "It's apparent that even after everything that has happened to the both of us your opinions haven't swayed in the slightest. Yes, there is no denying the fact that I myself was not cut from the Grim Reaper's soul as you were, but you gravely downplay the magnificence that is Chaos. That and you grossly exaggerate your own power. How else can you explain your current situation? An almighty god of fear, trapped upon the moon by a mere child? I almost did not believe it until I saw it for myself."

Glancing over towards Crona, the Mother Witch eyed the Demon Swordsman with both curiosity and an almost humorous smirk.

"You would be wise not to speak of matters you know nothing of, Hecate," Asura stated irritably. "Were it not for the magic bestowed by Eibon's BREW, the child would have been swallowed by the Madness along with the rest of the world long ago. Regardless, this prison is only a minor inconvenience. The child's will is already beginning to crumble and these walls will follow soon thereafter. It won't be long before I'm free to cast Madness over the earth once more."

"So you willingly admit that the power bestowed by BREW is the sole reason why you are not able to break free of this place? Is it not therefore hypocritical to make such proclamations that you are the supreme being in this world considering that it's Eibon's doing that keeps you here?"

Clenching his head in a dramatic display, Asura ran his fingers down his face as he peeked between the gaps in the digits.

"Have you not heard a single thing that I've said?!" he questioned, flailing his head about with a groan that bordered between aggravation and derangement. "Even with the power of BREW, there is nothing in this world that can stop the Madness! The shinigami and his forces tried! This child tried! Even the minions of Eibon's own book attempted to challenge my power, but not a single one of them was able to do so! Each and every one of them failed and will continue to do so! All their efforts to thwart the Madness are for naught! Why?! Why am I the only one who realizes this?!"

With his eyes shifting rapidly about in delirium, Asura heard the answer to his question come in the form of cold, malicious laughter from the Mother Witch.

"Perhaps it is your Madness's own doing that they continue to defy you," Hecate offered up in mockery. "After all, is not insanity attempting the same solution over and over again and expecting a different result? Their persistence against the Madness of Fear could merely be a byproduct of the Madness itself."

"Patronizing woman!" the Kishin cried sharply, lifting his head up as his composure was rapidly beginning to fall to the wayside. "A millennium of being nothing more than a simple soul within Eibon's book seems to have made you forget the true terrors that lie at the heart of Madness! Need I remind you of the horrors that I can conjure upon the souls of the world?!"

Coming to life around his face, the multitude of scarves covering the Kishin snaked out and stretched in a threatening display before the Mother Witch, whose only response was a faint upturn in her smile at the former Warlord's unpredictability.

"If it will give you pleasure you're more than free to try, but your efforts would be wasted," she stated neutrally. "Within this prison you have nobody upon whom you can spread your Madness except yourself. The child already teems with its own Madness that when combined with BREW outweighs your own, and I have already submitted myself to the Madness of Chaos. To attempt to invoke the fear within either of us would be a fruitless endeavor."

Sagging in extension of the Kishin's emotional state, the scarves surrounding him drooped in their posture as though the crazed god had let out a deep sigh. Indeed, as he let his hands fall away from his face, there appeared to be an air of sudden composition about him as his body became lax with head lolled loosely downwards.

Curious, but ever vigilant, Crona watched the discussion between the two intimidating souls unfold before them. While they still had no clear picture who the woman was who had suddenly manifested herself out of the Book of Eibon, it was apparent that her name was Hecate, she and Asura had known one another at some point in the past, most likely as fellow members of the shinigami's Warlords, and that she at one time had betrayed the Grim Reaper in a similar of fashions. As well, the manners in which she and the Kishin were interacting gave them a deeply unsettling feeling in the pit of their stomach. The sheer magnitude of their clashing wavelengths combined with their obvious lack of regard for the other was a volatile mixture waiting to erupt.

They could then hear it resonating throughout the darkness. It came through quietly at first, but then began to pick up intensity with each passing breath; a lowly, morbid snicker that came not just from Asura standing before them, but from every possible direction in an ever-growing maniacal chorus. Swinging about but for a second, they could have sworn that there was a second Asura laughing directly into their ear from behind, but found only the empty void awaiting them. Even though there was only one Kishin that they could see, his demented cackle was nonetheless disturbing as it filled the sphere of Mad Blood from all conceivable sides.

"The only thing that will be fruitless will be your brief return to this world!"Asura cried with the reverberating echo of his crazed outburst providing an unnerving backdrop for his words. "How you managed to do so admittedly remains a fascination to me, however, it seems that you won't be around long enough for me to hear your riveting tale of revival!"

Lashing out from a distance, Asura sent his scarves streaking through the blackness in an opening gambit. Converging from multiple angles, the strips of fabric that were actually fashioned from his own skin honed in on the Mother Witch's chest with the intent of slicing her into ribbons, but would be deprived of their opportunity. Reacting with a particular calmness to the attack, Hecate stretched her open palm outwards as a flash of shaded green manifested itself within her palm.

"I expected as much of a response from you," she stated with a tinge of cruel exhilaration lacing her voice as the hydra of scarves closed in on her. "Chaos Theory: Net Neutrality."

Expanding rapidly into a translucent disk of light, the barrier became the same symbol of chaos that had adorned the halls of her confines within the Book of Eibon, complete with its eight-pointed star of arrows and ancient runes. Manifesting itself in front of the woman, the shield sparked and crackled violently with coursing static as the tips of the incoming scarves struck it full force, pushing and straining against the magical barrier with malicious intentions, but could not find the means to penetrate through the ring that stood between them and their quarry. The best that the attack had accomplished was to push the Mother Witch back only slightly, but her elated grin remained all the same.

"Annoying pest!" Asura shouted as he continued to push against the barrier with his scarves. Opting for a secondary means of destroying the vexing woman, he parted his jaw wide to regurgitate Vajra from the depths of his body, allowing the pointed tip of the bronzed Weapon to come to bear directly at the center of the shield. Letting loose with a fiery crimson blast from Vajra, the concentrated beam rocketed from the Kishin's mouth and found its mark with a thunderous explosion that drove back the darkness of the Mad Blood prison in a brilliant flash.

Allowing the smoke to clear before dictating his next move, the Kishin's lips curled into a sadistic smile of satisfaction at the sight before him as he returned Vajra to his holding place within him. Although Hecate still stood unharmed after the vicious assault, the laser fire had served its purpose as small hairline fractures began to creep their way outwards throughout her barrier. Rearing back with his scarves, Asura pressed his attack as he hammered away once more upon the magical disk with a relentless craze. Growing ever wider and weaker by the moment, the schisms within the shield held on for as long as they could as the Mother Witch held steadfast to her position. Merciless in his strikes, the Kishin drilled one of the scarves into the epicenter of the cracks to the sound of shattering glass that filled the blackened void as the barrier dissipated in a burst of emerald light, leaving Hecate exposed. Taking full advantage of her defenseless state, Asura took aim upon her and unleashed a second concentrated beam from Vajra.

"Stroph, pha, stro, phalo,…stropha, phalo," Hecate incanted quickly, moving her hands in an intricate fashion in ways of an elaborate circle. "Chaos Theory: Repulsion."

Screeching to a halt just before it had a chance to make impact, Vajra's laser seemed to float at a single point in space for a split second, burning bright like a scarlet cylinder that one could reach out and touch. It then collapsed in on itself, turning inside out as it reversed its trajectory and continued its path right back at Asura, who countered the parry by placing one of his scarves in front of him to take the brunt of his returning blast as he was consumed by a ball of infernal flame. Dissipating to the wayside, the veiling plume of smoldering aftermath subsided to reveal the prominent scorched hole that was left in the Kishin's defense. With a heinous growl of annoyance, his brows furrowed into a sharpened leer as the gap in his scarf regenerated itself to mend the damage that had been created.

Watching the battle between the entities of Madness unfold in a clash of wills, Crona retreated off and away to a relatively safe distance, although the act was in and of itself only a false sense of security considering that within the Mad Blood there was nowhere they could go to escape the mayhem that was assured to come. Clutching the Book of Eibon and BREW close to their chest, a wave of conflicting emotions washed over them as the reality of what was happening struck them.

"This isn't good," they remarked to themselves with more than a hint of anxiousness. "This is really not good. That woman is just as strong as Asura. And that soul... I thought there was something familiar about her at first, but it just couldn't have been Medusa. But there's no doubt about it that that was magic she was using. She's a witch."

Hovering just below the two within the nothingness, their revelation about the nature of the woman seemed to fill them with even more questions about the battle that was continuing to escalate. She was a witch and an extremely formidable one at that, that much was for certain, but just who was she, they wondered? Why, and how, did she appear out of the Book of Eibon? What was the Madness of Chaos that she spoke of? However, despite these questions the one that burned itself most prominently at the forefront of their mind was if she was friend or foe at the moment. It was blatantly obvious that she was doing battle against Asura, but their intuition was telling them that the enemy of their enemy wasn't their friend. While it was true that they did know that there were some witches they had met who were "good", they were few and far between and the aura that the woman was radiating was far too akin to that of one who desired malevolence.

"Do you know what the amusing thing about having lived the last millennia as nothing more than a simple soul is, Asura?" Hecate questioned in ridicule. "You find that death is not nearly as frightening as one expects it to be. After one experiences it a first time, one becomes almost jaded to the notion of leaving this world again and as consequence all other fears suddenly become rather insignificant or disappear altogether. But you already know all of this, do you not?"

Glaring with utter scorn and malice towards the Mother Witch, the Kishin said nothing in response as his features showed wrought with dementedness.

"Oh, my sincerest apologies, Asura. I had forgotten that you are still naïve to that particular experience," she continued sadistically. "While your demise itself was a gruesome one, you never truly died at the hands of the Reaper, did you? You never got to see what lies beyond that fragile threshold? One of the benefits of being an immortal incarnation of fear, I suppose. Perhaps you were correct in saying that we are not so alike after all. And here I thought for a moment that we were both former allies of Death who had simply fallen from grace."

Clasping his gloved hands over his face, the Kishin flailed about in a perplexing fit of conflicting emotions.

"Wretched woman, just what are you getting at?!" Asura cried in a delirious rage. "Of course I was right the first time! There is nothing about us that is even remotely similar!"

"Too true, but you fail to grasp what I'm saying," Hecate smirked, bearing her canines wickedly as Asura's form became less human and more monstrous with each passing moment. "The difference between you and I is not that you are fear brought to life and I am not, but that I have truly died once before, whereas you have not. And in that simple difference I've come to learn many things about this world and the universe it resides within that you could never hope to understand. One of those matters just so happens to be the relevance of all things, and after having experienced death I find that any other fears I ever had to be, well…irrelevant. That is not to say that there is no trace of fear within me, because I certainly do still have it. It's a primordial attribute instilled in all beings after all. However, after one has conquered the ultimate fear that is Death everything else becomes so trivial. And that is what you are, Asura; a primordial entity, that while necessary for life to survive and eventually thrive, is only as relevant as the individual you influence with your Madness."

Conjuring a ball of flame within the palm of her hand, the fire took the shape of a miniaturized sun that silently laughed at the Kishin in mockery.

"Cast away the darkness with light and suddenly the world is not so terrifying anymore," she stated before moving her other hand to manipulate the shadows that were cast juxtaposed against the flame. "Fear comes from that which is unknown and unfamiliar, hence why young children are afraid of those things that their elders find irrational. Time and experience do away with almost all of these unknowns as one grows older and wiser. That is, save for death, because that is all death is; the final unknown. And once it has been experienced, there are no more fears so great that one can face again."

Like phantom marionettes, the shadows contorted into the shape of a young child going through various stages of life and the subsequent irrational fears she might face throughout in illustration of the Mother Witch's words. Morphing as she grew into adolescence and adulthood, the final image depicted the figure on her death bed before Hecate clenched her fist shut, snuffing out the ball of flame and the life of the shadowy woman.

Finishing with her monologue brimming with an equal mixture of philosophy and derision, Hecate now found herself standing in the presence of the god of fear as he truly was. Towering well over her and the demon child, the gaunt fiend that was Asura no longer resembled anything remotely human with his decrepit scarves and bandages hanging in loose tatters around his lithe skeletal frame and the myriad of slender eyes that covered his shoulders and wrappings around his face. Writhing and flailing about in some unknown form of inner confliction, the Kishin let loose with a titanic roar of agony and rage. Appearing out of the void, his signature symbol of three vertical eyes manifested in a bloody crimson glow, leering down upon Hecate and Crona as hellish flames seemed to rise up from the nothingness as his Madness grew with his delirium.

"Irrelevant?!" he cried with a demonic screech. "What foolish audacity! The Madness has no equal and will never fade away! Hopelessness and despair are engrained into every life and I am the one who can draw upon their endless power to piper them all to their doom! And you are no different, witch! Now you'll know just what I am! I am the scare that triggers your fear! You might have known me in a different life, but now come and know me as God!"

Lashing out once more with his myriad of scarves, the serpentine bands of fabric became consumed by a blackened fire that was stark in contrast against the glow that came from the Madness . Moving erratically as though shaking with rage, the infernal appendages closed in upon Hecate as Asura simultaneously crouched down in a prayer-like stance. Returning Vajra to the world, he brought his Weapon to bear against her and fired away with the diameter of the beam being nearly twice that what it had been before. Filled with every ounce of his loathing and contempt for the trying woman who belittled his power so openly, he watched as his multi-sided attack closed in on her and found that her smile had waned into a stoic façade and her brow furrowed into a sharp leer.

Vanishing without a word, Asura's empowered laser and scarves of blackened fire passed straight through the space that had previously been occupied by the Mother Witch. With nothing to halt its momentum, the beam made a beeline into the void, traveling a considerable distance before erupting in a colossal explosion as it struck the boundary of the Mad Blood, proving that the prison did indeed have a wall to it.

"Run all you like, witch! You can't hide from me!" he shouted in aggravation, growling ferociously as his attack had failed to hit the meddlesome woman yet again. Utilizing his razor sharp Soul Perception, he could see the demon child off and away below him as well as the glowing violet aura of Hecate's soul which was now directly behind him. Whirling around to his rear, he was already extending the reach of his black flames as he took a vicious swipe in her direction.

"Stroph, phalo, pha, stroph,… pha, phalo-!"

Cut off in her magical incantation, the Kishin's reach had finally found its mark as Hecate was flung violently to the side. Lapping at her dress and exposed flesh, the jet black fire seared with an unholy vengeance as she let out a sharp cry of pain, which was then multiplied tenfold as the blazing wrappings caught her around the waist and reeled her back in with a rapid change in direction.

"If you have no fear of the other side then I'll gladly reacquaint you with it!" Asura cackled dementedly, shifting one of his scarves into a daggered point that he brought to the ready to impale the trying witch. Try as she might to break free of his constricting hold, the fallen Warlord had neither the ability nor time to counter her situation as the Kishin drove the flaming spear home without mercy, watching with a demented grin as Hecate stared wide-eyed back at him with a look of utter shock and confoundment. Attempting in vain to say something, her words came out as only choking gasps as faint streaks of crimson seeped from the corners of her mouth.

"Just where is your Chaos now, Hecate?" the Kishin snided in satisfaction, bringing the impaled woman nearly face to face with him. "Looks like all your praise for your Madness turned out to be nothing more than hollow words. Now you've been reminded that I am truly the incarnation of fear and you are nothing more than a mere sack of flesh and blood that happens to know a few tricks."

Forcing her downtrodden head up to meet him, Hecate continued to suck in shallow, wheezing breaths as she glared at him with contempt. Then creeping across her lips ever-so slowly, her features turned upwards into an almost delirious smirk. Then she spoke, but not with any sense of pain or labor that she had been displaying.

"You can deny me all you wish, Asura, but you cannot overlook the simple fact of the matter that in the end your Madness can extend only so far and so deep. It is limited by its own individual relevance as well as its dependency to life and the Reaper. But the Madness of Chaos exists where yours cannot," she stated with an icy glare. "It transcends even the boundaries of Death and will continue to exist long after you and I and the rest of this world have long faded into oblivion. Chaos has no dependents other than itself and so will keep marching on into eternity; never ceasing in its work and ever-present in every facet of existence. This includes you as well, Asura. Is it not rather amusing that for all your boisterous talk about being the incarnate of Fear, your soul is perfectly ripe with Chaos? All of your paranoia drives your slew of randomness and erratic tendencies, filling your head and your soul with Chaos. And in the end it will be your own Fear that will become your downfall. It has done nothing more than blind you to what lies in front of you."

Smiling wickedly, Hecate's body began to evaporate in a shadowy white mist, fading away into the depths of the empty void. Vanishing without a trace, any remnants of her or her blood that had stained the cloth of Asura's tapered scarf were now gone, leaving the Kishin to the inconvenient conclusion that somehow the woman that he had just gutted was nothing more than an illusion.

Pulsing out in its more titanic of waves yet, the weight of Asura's Madness reached a newfound level of gravity as he roared with psychotic wrath, filling nearly the entirety of the Mad Blood prison with his blackened hellfire. Consumed by hatred and paranoia, he cried out in delusion as he flailed about in random search for the woman.

"Wretched witch! Where are you hiding?!" he thundered in confusion.

Bringing Vajra to the ready thrice, he charged up his Weapon and fired a monstrous blast in the nearest random direction. Swinging about wildly, the Kishin held the longevity of his attack into a destructive beam that he cast in all directions, which struck nothing save for the wall of the Mad Blood prison.

And then there, faint against the darkness like a few fireflies on a warm summer night, there came the twinkling of yellow lights from below. Cracked and fissuring, a miniscule section of the Mad Blood had been broken through to allow the flickering lights of the slumbering earth below to shine in.

Seeing the penetration of the Mad Blood, a shocking pang of truest fear shot through Crona in what seemed like a lifetime since they had felt such a terror. Feeling every eruption against the Mad Blood resonate within their core, they strained to hold the confining barrier together as Asura rampaged on in the not-so far distance. Between the multiplied weight of the Kishin's Madness, the witch's Madness, and the relentless onslaught against the wall, they reached deep down to steel themselves and keep everything that was happening restricted to the moon and nothing more. Closing the wound shut, they endured the relentless assault as best as they could.

"I won't let you hurt Maka," they said defiantly. While the declaration itself appeared as though it was meant for only Asura, they knew now that in order to protect the one they held dear they needed to keep both fallen Warlords contained. However, it appeared as though their words had fallen on deaf ears with regards to Asura. Indicating no signs of stopping until Hecate had been destroyed, he showed nothing but reckless, single-minded abandonment as he unleashed Vajra in every conceivable direction. Bit by tiny bit, the blasts chipped away at the barrier that they struggled to mend as fast as the fissures were created.

"How very noble of you, child," the icy voice of the woman whispered into their ear from behind.

Whirling about, Crona found only the darkness awaiting them as their senses were put on high alert. With no trace of the witch to be found, they wrestled internally with what to do, knowing that the brief distraction was costing them precious time and focus that they desperately needed to keep mending the damage Asura was putting in the Mad Blood. But before they could turn their attention back to fulfilling their duty as warden, yet another unneeded distraction presented itself as once more the Book of Eibon they held in hand began to radiate a glow before bursting wide open in a whirlwind of runes. Emerging from its pages, a shadowy mass leapt from the depths of the magical text, blindsiding them as it shot past them in a blur.

Floating there now within the nothingness was a massive black and scarlet wolfish beast with a coat like fire and brimstone, in the jaws of which it clenched both BREW and the Book of Eibon. Bounding over to a random point in the darkness, it dropped the Demon Tools from its mouth, which levitated on their own accord.

"Good girl, Inu," Hecate praised, coming out of her hiding as she held the magical artifacts in hand with a malevolent grin. "I must say, the invisibility magic of this child combined with this newfound Soul Protect spell certainly does work wonders for evading even the most acute of Soul Perceptions."

Immediately recognizing the wavelength of the woman as she emerged back within sight, Asura rapidly turned his attack upon the Mother Witch and Inu, with Crona subsequently finding themselves within the direct line of fire. Charging Vajra upon them, the scarlet light shone down upon them like an unholy judgment.

Time itself seemed to come to a crawl for Crona as they took in the severity of the situation they had found themselves in the epicenter of. Without BREW, they could only hope that by some miracle they would be able to utilize the hardness and resilience of their Black Blood to withstand the oncoming blast. But far more dire than their wellbeing was that of Maka's. Without the Demon Tool to multiply their Mad Blood, the prison wouldn't hold against the power of two clashing Warlords. If either Asura or Hecate broke free, Maka would be in terrible danger.

In a rush of blood, the whole world came crashing back into reality as Asura unleashed his attack. Wincing in horrified anticipation, Crona crossed their arms in front of their chest in a futile attempt to lessen the blow as they simultaneously hardened their Black Blood.

"Chaos Theory: Net Neutrality."

Caught in the deafening explosion, Crona could feel themselves being jostled around by the shockwave of the god's assault, and in that moment, for reasons unbeknownst to them, a piercing scream escaped their lungs. The terrible heat that came with it enveloped them in its vicious embrace, driving them back as the vengeful red and orange flames seared anything and everything around them. Unable to tell up from down as they were thrown about, they could only keep their eyes scrunched shut as they held on for dear life as they rode the colossal tidal wave.

Coming to a halt as their spinning slowed down and the fire around them subsided, they took a precious moment to run a mental self-check on themselves to confirm that they were in fact still alive. The small aches and pains that emerged throughout their body were testament enough for that, however they were relieved to find that they didn't hurt nearly as badly as they had initially anticipated. Breathing a momentary sigh of relief, they anxiously opened their eyes to lay sight upon the destruction that Asura had released only to find their sight hindered by a blackened veil. Unfurling from in front of them, the veil took the form of two massive dragon-like wings that smoldered with the aftermath of the Kishin's beam, parting to either side of them.

"Ragnarok?"

Letting loose with a screeching "peow", the Demon Sword's Black Dragon form flapped his reptilian wings in flight, shaking off the lingering effects of the blast. Whether it had been out of self-survival or some reluctant empathy for his Meister, Ragnarok had forced a Scream Resonance at the last possible moment and placed himself at the forefront of the eruption to protect Crona from the Kishin's beam.

Gasping, Crona could see that they were now flying above the wicked crescent moon, which was once more glowing with its yellow lux on the taper of its curve. Jutting out of the sphere of Mad Blood, the moon looked like some odd lunar bird trying to break free of its shell as a massive gaping hole had formed from where Asura had struck. And in the center of that hole stood Hecate, who remained entirely unscathed as she dismissed her magic Chaos Star shield.

"We're in trouble," they said worriedly. "If either of them get loose and hurt Maka…I-I know I won't be able to deal with that. We need to get BREW and the book back."

Materializing within their hand, Crona now gripped their berserker sword, feeling its weight as they brought the edge to the ready. Understanding what needed to be done, they looked up into the sky wondering what course of action they should take to get the Demon Tools back in their possession. It was a formidable burden, but one that they were willing to bear as they prepared to jump headlong back into the fray.

"Let's go, Ragnarok," they stated, swooping in with berserker sword at their side as they reared back and flung the blade outwards in an arc in front of them. "Screech Alpha."

Directing the attack at Hecate's backside, the resonance took the form of a massive black and purple mouth that rocketed through the air, chomping menacingly at anything that stood in its path. Making a beeline straight for the unsuspecting Mother Witch, its arrival was announced by the sharp barking of the wolf-like beast beside her. Without even looking Hecate raised two fingers behind her and made a quick vertical slashing motion.

"Chaos Theory: Spatial Rift."

Opening up from the point of her motion, a darkened, starry portal brimming with clusters of spiral galaxies and twinkling lights emerged, swallowing the Screech Alpha whole before closing.

"She..she transported it into outer space?" Crona questioned in confounding disbelief.

Bearing her canines, Hecate momentarily turned her attention away from Asura to deal with the demon child who had tried to ambush her so foolishly.

"Oh, that was only a small taste of it," she stated simply.

Making a second slashing with her fingers, a second rift opened up just in front of Crona, out of which their own Screech Alpha emerged still in full force. Raising their berserker sword in front of them, they met the attack with a straining grunt as they were pushed backwards midair by their own resonance.

"Screech Gamma," Crona cried as the blade in hand glowed with a purple hue and morphed into a curved edge. Slashing through the Screech Alpha, they managed to dissipate it as it fell into two halves and faded in a black and violet mist.

Allowing the Demon Swordsman no reprieve, Hecate followed up her counterattack with a rapid incantation.

"Stropha, pha, phalo, stropha…Chaos Theory: Cry Havoc!" she announced, moving her fingers in a quick series of gestures.

Bursting forth from the Book of Eibon, yet a third tempest whirlwind emerged, this time revealing its surprises in the form of several jet black hellhounds that swarmed the Demon Swordsman as they clawed their way across Ragnarok, chomping and gnashing at their Black Blood with minimal effect. Flapping their wings, Crona took flight to try to shake them off, but only managed to free themselves of two of the hounds while the remainder of them latched on tight to any part of Ragnarok they could sink their jaws into. Despite even their hardened Black Blood, however, the ferocious beasts were able to dig in and hold on long enough to serve their purpose.

"Now where were we?" Hecate questioned darkly in rhetoric, leaving her familiars to tend to the meddlesome flying pest as she turned her attention upon the Kishin where she required it. Holding BREW within the palm of her hand, the archaic magical cube shone with a faint blue light as the witch stared down the Kishin who still loomed just beyond the breech of the Mad Blood sphere. "Phalo, pha, stro, stro…pha, stro, stro, phalo…phalo, pha, stro, stro..."

"Die!" Asura roared, his blackened flames erupting out of the opening in the Mad Blood orb like a hellish volcano.

"Chaos Theory: Hypersphere Enclosure!" the Mother Witch cried in turn, raising her index and middle fingers of her right hand in front of the bridge of her nose. Making a wide, sweeping circle, her signature Chaos Star manifested in its emerald illumination, expanding into a colossal version of itself that served to protect her from the Kishin's infernal black fire. Moving her fingers in a series of complex gestures from behind her translucent veil, a clone of the ancient rune replicated itself to the side of Asura. Radiating balls of light at the tips of each of their eight arrows, thin strands of luminescence shot forth across the darkness. Thrice more she copied this process, until there were eight Chaos Stars arranged symmetrically in an octagon, each connected to the one beside it by the strands of light.

"Seal!" Hecate incanted with a rapturous grin, crossing her hands in front of her in an X-gesture.

Blinding against the void of the Mad Blood moon, the Chaos Stars burned bright with a neon green as they began to spin rapidly about their central axis, forming massive spheres of light like eight emerald suns against the night sky. Bursting with bolts of darkened lightning, magical vectors shot from their core to meet their counterpart opposite them, effectively skewering Asura who stood in the middle of the geometry. Roaring in delirious agony, the eight beams converged within his chest, consolidating into a single smaller orb that began to rage with a whirling tempest as it revolved in place.

"What is this?!" the Kishin demanded to know in a fit of maniacally delusive rage. He could feel something strange happening to his gaunt body as it began to warp before his very eyes, pulled inwards by sheer titanic force of the orb. "What did you do you accursed witch!?"

Picking up force as it spun faster and faster, the light inside of him began to suck not only the Kishin within, but everything surrounding it. Giant chunks of Mad Blood, no longer held together by the power of BREW, became whirling meteors as they broke away from the moon and spiraled about the miniature sun before falling into its grasp. Pieces of lunar rock and debris not anchored down to the surface were easily uplifted and strewn about like thousands of missiles.

Seeing that their master had accomplished her goal, the hellhounds who continued to gnash and claw at Crona released their holds, vanishing like smoke on the breeze, or in their case a typhoon. Leaving the Demon Swordsman to the wrath of Hecate's magic, they watched with anticipation and sheer terror at what was becoming of Asura, fighting against the raging winds and dodging incoming hazards as they did so.

"I know it's not usually my style, but we need to get the hell out of here!" Ragnarok shouted over the whipping flurry, flapping his Black Dragon wings to try to keep their distance from the orb.

"But we need to get BREW back and stop her!" Crona argued, knowing full well that if they didn't the situation would only grow that much worse.

"Don't be a moron!" the Demon Sword rebuked. "If we get sucked into that thing we'll be goners! We're no good to anybody dead!"

"Maybe so, but we have to try anyways," they said with absolute resolve. "Maka would have done the same."

Taking control of their symbiotic partnership, Crona reversed the course of their flight, turning them so that they now barreled headlong into the pull of the orb. Diving and rolling, they navigated the debris field on their suicidal endeavor with less than nimble maneuvers as they were thrown and jostled about within the spiraling whirlwind. Using their berserker sword, they slashed through obstacles in their path as they fought against the spinning maelstrom of the gravitational tide, trying to get within striking distance of Hecate.

"It's too much!" Ragnarok grunted, feeling the very fabric of their being beginning to fall apart as the tips of his wing literally unraveled at the molecular level before his eyes. "Crona, pull back!"

Realizing the grave severity of their error, Crona fought with every muscle in their body to abort and escape the pull of the magical sphere.

"I can't!" they shouted, now left entirely to the mercy of the current. "I'm trying, but I can't move!"

Atom by atom, the Demon Swordsman could only watch on helplessly as they were warped and stretched by the colossal, inescapable force at work. Deconstructing them in a string of blackened particles, they swirled every closer to the rotating epicenter, which had already claimed over half of Asura.

"Maka…I'm sorry," they uttered, her image flashing within their mind as they were drawn ever inwards to the light. Releasing all inhibitions, in the dire moment they found no fear to be had, but only the heart-wrenching pang that came with the regret of their failure.

Taken hold by the gravity of the magical orb, the world around the Kishin was literally bending and contorting as he fought to escape the spiraling point of convergence. Straining with an outstretched hand, he summoned Vajra one final time in retaliation, striking out towards the Mother Witch in futility. Traveling just to the edge of sphere's pull, the crimson laser ground to a halt before it was sucked back into the whirling vortex.

Gaping his jaw wide as it was torn from his face, Asura unleashed a parting shriek of agony as his entire being was pulled into the blinding epicenter. Coursing with static and lightning, the sphere turned the darkest shade of black, tainted by the concentration of pure Madness that was now trapped inside.

Pulsing outwards like a supernova, a wave of indescribable energy rocked the starry night in a burning neon ring, throwing chunks of remnant Mad Blood and lunar rock across the expanse of the sky. Rattling the heavens and the earth, the aftermath of the Mother Witch's spell subsided to reveal the wicked crescent moon shining once more in all its yellow majesty. Bent inwards upon itself from the violent turbulence of the magic, the pointed ends now practically touched one another in nearly a full circle, warped from the tension it had been subjected to.

Striding across its uprooted and cratered surface, Hecate approached the pitch black sphere that was no larger than a child's ball.

"And herein it lies, all the fear of the world," she stated icily, running her hand over the surface and feeling the Madness that continued to filter through despite her spatial magic. "How unfortunate it is that it had to come to this, Asura, but in the end this world will know the one true Madness that is Chaos. It is a shame truly, because despite our differences we are actually not as far apart as we make ourselves out to be. Fallen in the eyes of the Reaper, we are both beings who rebelled against the farce that is absolute order and sought to lift the veil of lies that blanket the souls of the world through the spread of our Madness, although our ideal visions of that new world are where we part ways."

Caressing the smooth surface of the Hypersphere, Hecate handed the Book of Eibon over to Inu, grasping it in one hand while holding BREW in the other.

"While I didn't agree with many of your ideologies, Asura, I cannot deny that fear in itself is vital to this world. As I said before, you are a primordial entity engrained in all beings and necessary for life to survive and thrive, and thus I acknowledge the importance of fear itself. However, your arrogance and ignorance would never have allowed any form of cooperation between us, and as a result you forced this upon yourself."

Extending her finger, the Mother Witch gave a simple vertical swipe through the air.

"Chaos Theory: Spatial Rift."

Opening up a schism before her, the fissure parted to reveal a solid wall that radiated a yellowish white with a tremendous heat escaping it that outclassed even that of Asura's black fire.

"One cannot kill what one did not create, and as such, I cannot destroy you, Asura," she stated almost solemnly. "Despite my own selfish wishes, fear is an unfortunate necessity that I cannot simply strip this world of, and so in its own ironic way I have to allow your Madness to continue filling the souls of all beings. However, you, my dear patron of derangement, will never see the light of day ever again. That is an assurance. I'm casting you into the deepest fathom s of the earth, where no mortal soul will ever be able to free you."

Levitating the Hypersphere and pushing it past the threshold, the heavy enclosure that now housed the Kishin Asura met resistance from the sheer density of the wall in front of it, shooting sparks as it inched its way bit by bit into the infernal mass before finally being consumed. Sealing the portal closed behind it, the Mother Witch cast her gaze downwards to the earth below, knowing that in the very core of which Asura's Madness would be forever contained to spread no further amongst the souls of all living beings. And in the strangest of senses, Hecate pondered momentarily if this was what the Reaper must have felt when he himself confined Asura all those centuries ago. Despite her having never witnessed the act take place, she eventually concluded that no, they hadn't any similarities to be found between them other than they had both declared themselves victorious over Asura.

She was nothing like Death.

"The spirit is willing to carry on, but this child's body does appear to have limitations that my own did not," she stated regretfully, resting her head in her hand and rubbing her temples as she took a moment's relief in the lux of the wicked yellow moon. Feeling a brush of fur against her arm, she reached out and stroked the fiery fur of the hellhound that nuzzled up against her in consolation. "It's no matter though. There's only one remnant of our past that requires tending to now. The only question to be had is where we might find him."

Looking down into the little cube that she held in hand and the ancient text that Inu kept clenched between her teeth, a faint chuckle escaped Hecate as she reflected on the events that had occurred, the moment that she was in, and what was to come. Illuminating within her grasp, the archaic Demon Tool sprung to life and beneath her feet she could feel the entirety of the moon begin to reverberate.

"Take solace in your reprieve, dear Eibon," she warned ominously. "Your time will come soon enough, but for now I need to go and pay homage to our new Grim Reaper."

Rocking back and forth in the depths of the night, a low, throaty chuckle of menace echoed throughout the world as pools of ominous scarlet proceeded to flow from between clenched teeth.

* * *

The clock on the wall above the kitchen sink ticked methodically upon its mount, unperturbed in the stillness of an hour most ungodly. Second by second the hands passed by in their rhythmic, almost hypnotic cycle, marking the time with consistent efficiency. Shining in from the outside, the faint glow of the moon crept up the walls to cast its light upon the timepiece, bringing with it an anomaly so subtle that one would never have noticed if they weren't purposefully looking. Continuing in its ministrations in a circle about its face, the second hand of the clock had slowed by but a miniscule of fractions.

And a piercing scream shattered the night.

Bolting upright from beneath her covers, Maka panted with heaving gasps for air with a heavy sheen of perspiration covering her body and soaking into the sheets. Gripping her blanket in a vice-like hold, she clenched the fabric as the intensity of her dreamscape was slowly replaced with the reality that her bedroom. Getting a grip on her rampant mind, the Scythe Meister's chest began to slow in its rise and fall, bringing her emotions under check.

Throwing her tangled sheets from her, she swung her legs out over the side of her bed and buried her face in her hands as she remembered the vividness of her nighttime terror.

"Crona…" she whispered.

Still as stone as she sat upon her mattress, the coolness of the winter's night mixed in with the sweat that coated her, giving her goosebumps along her arms. She wasn't sure just how long she sat there, unable to shake the things she had seen within her own mind, but what she was sure of was that come morning she wouldn't have forgotten them easily.

"Maka," she heard, breaking her focus on her dark musings, causing her to lift her head from her hands. Turning her head quickly, she spun her gaze to the wall beside her with senses on edge. Her name had come from Soul's room.

"Maka!" his voice came again, louder this time and laced with a painful groan of distress. He hadn't been checking up on her from the other side, but was crying for her help.

Bolting upright, panic reignited within her heart as she threw the door to her room open, flying past a stunned Blair who had been on the other side on the verge of inquiring about the scream she had heard.

"Soul?!" she questioned frantically, bursting into her Weapon's room without wasting time to knock.

Standing in the threshold, Maka saw two things that took her breath away. The first was the yellow moon in all its glory shining through the window, chuckling manically with blood-stained teeth. And the second was her partner curled up upon the floor, his sheets tangled around him as he clenched his chest, groaning in agonizing pain. Rushing by his side, the Meister frantically undid the constricting covers from his body, placing a shaking hand on him to let him know that she was there.

"Maka, help!" he forced out with a choking grunt.

Opening his scrunched up eyes to plead to his Meister, the light from the moon filtered in through the window to shine upon his ruby irises, their hues' contrasted by glowing cerulean webs that radiated out from their center.

* * *

**A:N/ Wow...so much for the next chapter coming faster and smoother than the last one. I really jinxed myself on that one. Sorry everyone, I didn't mean to go AWOL, but this chapter was just a struggle to get going. I would just come home from school and stare at the screen thinking about what I wanted to right and how to do it canon. Obviously the biggest issue was the grandness of this whole endeavor pitting two Warlords against one another (It was also my longest chapter to date). I hope I did it justice. If you have any comments, questions, or concerns, let me know and I can discuss them at a greater length. On that note, Asura is gone and will not be returning to the story. This is Hecate's show now. **

**So just on a fun note, I want to share something super incredible that happened to me during my time between chapters. I was at a 4th of July party and randomly got to meet THE Maynard James Keenan of TOOL (who I made a reference to back in Chapter 13). I was on cloud nine. The lead singer of the biggest metal band in the world and I got a picture with him and got to go on a hay ride with him and his wife and little girl. It was surreal everyone. Super nice dude and we got to talk for a bit, but I didn't want to bother him too much. **

**One last thing, I know this is a little out there, but I guess since this is my story I often times like to put it to music and picture it in my head like a badass AMV haha. Is that weird? **

**Until next time my friends. **

**K.K. **


	26. This Night of No Tomorrow

Chapter 26: This Night of No Tomorrow: We're Born and We Fade (Into the Dissonance)?

Screeching to a shuttering standstill in the depths of the night, Maka's heart stopped beating in her chest as the sight before her struck her at her very core. Trying to find some words to express her emotions, none come to surface as she covered her mouth with her hand in confounding shock, subconsciously rearing back in spite of herself. As her mind tried to gain some form of comprehension of what she was bearing witness too, she found only pleading denial in the ways of wishing that this were all still just part of some horrible nightmare that she would soon awake from. She would open her eyes to the sound of her alarm clock just as the sun began its ascent over the horizon, pull the covers from her sleeping form to greet the new day, and all would be as it should.

"Maka…"

Hearing the pleading of her name coming from her partner, the Scythe Meister was shaken from her wishful thinking and brought back into the present moment where the moon was no longer black and Soul was curled up in a ball of painful distress.

"Soul!" she cried out in a tone that came out somewhere between a shrill gasp and a choking sob. Falling to her knees, she placed her hands upon his shoulders as she desperately tried to offer up any consolation that she could.

"I'm here, Soul! What's going on?! What's wrong?!" she implored, already having a frightful deduction based upon what she had seen in his eyes, but asking the question nonetheless on some off chance that she might be proven wrong. However, her hopes of being contradicted were growing slimmer with every passing moment as a sensation that she had last felt in a time that seemed so long ago began to reemerge in a slowly expanding aura of wavelength. It was the faintest of feelings at first, but as she knelt there in the disturbed darkness the conclusion that she had desperately attempted to deny eventually became inevitable. Trembling from the mixture of apprehension and chilled perspiration that still clung to her skin, for the first time in her life she activated her Soul Perception with the truest sense of dread and peered into her partner's chest.

Burning bright within him, she saw the flaming light blue of his soul hovering inside, but upon closer inspection she also spied an orb of translucent violet trapped beneath its surface. Like a second heart within him, it would rapidly glow bright and then dim ever-so slightly as though it were beating to a frantic rhythm. But she knew all too well that it wasn't a second heart, but rather the other soul that dwelled within him that was somehow the culprit behind her Weapon's distress.

"Arachne…?" she whispered to herself, the words barely escaping her as Soul let out yet another straining groan of pain. "No…its…it's not possible. I don't understand….how?"

Though she couldn't comprehend at all why the scene unfolding in front of her was occurring, she nonetheless found herself forced to the dire conclusion that somehow, some way, the soul of the witch they had conquered to turn Soul into a Death Scythe was now acting on its own accord.

"What's going on?" she questioned shakily as she shifting her eyes back up to his, but finding them squinted shut. Feeling her chest clench tight, it pained her to see Soul in such a state knowing that she knew neither what was occurring nor how to remedy it. Deep inside her soul she desperately wished she could magically take all of his agony away, but she knew there was little, if anything, she could do at the present moment to ease his suffering without knowing what the root of it all was to begin with

His response to her desperate inquiry was low and forced, but its ominosity was as clear as the prominent moon light that now shone in through the window.

"Maka…get away," he grunted in warning, forcing a single eye open to look up at her. "I-I'm not sure I can hold it back."

"Hold what back?" she wondered worriedly, ignoring his command and moving in just a little bit closer to examine the inner struggle occurring within his soul. "Soul, what's-"

Blinded by a flash of white erupting from her partner, her inquiry was abruptly cut off as a firm force simultaneously took hold of her by the scruff of her pajama top and yanked her backwards away from the Weapon. For a brief second she didn't understand what had happened until she saw the gleam of the moon reflecting off the black and red blade whose tip was currently pointed ever-so precariously just off the left side of her cheek. Feeling the faint sting of the laceration igniting within her nerves and the warm trickle of something wet slipping down her face, the Scythe Meister reached up with widened emerald orbs to run her quivering hand past the edge of his blade in silent confirmation. Looking down, she found her palm stained with the scarlet of her own blood, after which she turned her head to see Blair behind her with her manicured hand still latched onto her in an iron grip.

"Maka!" Soul managed to cry out, a second flash erupting that quickly returned his arm back to normal. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to! I can't help it! I-I just…want to tear everything apart."

Crawling backwards in retreat, the Death Scythe pushed himself up into the corner of his room so as to put as much distance between himself and the two women as possible. Moaning all the while, he continued to clench at his chest, as though trying to reach beyond his flesh and get at the two souls within. Letting loose with another agonizing wail, the teenager reared back in a fit of conflicted and muddled emotions and punched the wall beside him, leaving a sizable dent in the drywall.

"It's alright, Soul," Maka tried to console despite the shaking in her voice. "I know it's not you. It's Arachne's soul. It's the one doing this."

Although she knew what the cause was, the questions that still burned on the forefront of her mind remained why and how. After the months since they had defeated the Spider Witch at Baba Yaga Castle, the arachnid loving woman's soul had remained entirely dormant within Soul, as it should have. It had turned Soul into a Death Scythe and its power had gotten them out of more than their fair share of tight spots while battling Asura. Why now of all times was it flaring up? How was it even possible?

"Maka, something's not right," Blair's voice came from behind her, pulling her out of her confliction. She was about to make a sniding comment about the obviousness of the situation, but stopped herself when she turned around to see the buxom woman still clad in her sheer nightgown staring out the window at the moon with a far off expression of worry on her face.

"I may not be a witch, but I do have a really good feeling for magic," the feline stated with a quiet solemness, stepping closer and pressing a hand up against the glass as though unable to take her eyes off the return of the lunar body. "I'm almost certain Arachne's soul is reacting to the Pull. I don't know what it is, but something out there is making the Pull really strong. Like so strong I can actually feel it. Right before you screamed I woke up because I felt something in the air change. I couldn't put my finger on it at first, but I'm sure now that it came from the moon."

The moon, Maka remembered. When she had seen Soul in his current state she had momentarily forgotten about the significance of its return to the celestial sky. So what she had seen within her nightmare wasn't just the product of a rampant imagination after all? Was Crona really…? No, she couldn't begin to think like that. Not after all they had been through and all they had done for her and the world. Somewhere in the back of her mind she refused to believe it.

But what about Asura? The Mad Blood prison was no more, so what had become of him? It didn't make any sense. He didn't just disappear, did he? Perhaps the Witches' Coven might have done something to be the cause of all of this, she theorized. If enough witches were using powerful magic all at once, they might have been able to trigger something within Arachne's soul for it to want to react the way it was. Even still, there were simply too many blanks that needed to be filled in before she could make an educated hypothesis.

Whatever the cause may be, the fact of the matter still remained that she wasn't in any position to handle any of this by herself. Soul was fighting to keep the Spider Witch's soul at bay and she needed someone with more acute soul wavelength abilities than her own if she wanted to help him.

"Blair!" Maka said firmly with a hint of desperation, pulling the feline's attention away from the window. "I need you to go get Professor Stein. Tell him you're sorry for waking him up, but it's an emergency and we need his help immediately."

"Are you sure you're going to be alright?" Blair questioned with concern.

"I'll be fine, but Soul needs help right now," she reiterated.

Nodding in confirmation, a flash of purple smoke filled the air around the woman, dissipating to reveal her nightgown swapped out for her standard witch's attire. Pushing the window open, she conjured a giant pumpkin outside the ledge and hopped on sidesaddle.

"You can count on me. I'll be back before you know it," Blair stated in understanding before giving her mount a quick kick with her heels. "Alright, let's go! Pum-pum-pum- pumpkin!"

Speeding off over the still sleeping Death City, the late night wakeup call was rapidly dispatched to fulfill her assignment. Watching Blair disappear over the blackened horizon, Maka could only hope that she wouldn't take very long to retrieve Professor Stein and bring him back.

"It's going to be okay, Soul. Help is on the way," she reassured, moreso to herself than to him as she reached down within to steel her trepidations and tell herself that she needed to be strong for both their sakes. They had definitely been in some scary situations in the past, but this was all too reminiscent of the time she had watched over him following their first battle with Crona and Ragnarok. It pained her to see him in such a state, but the fact that she didn't know how to help him only multiplied that grief tenfold.

"C'mon, Maka, think," she muttered faintly to herself, wracking her brain from something that she could do in the meantime to help. "Arachne's soul is responding to the Pull of Magic and making Soul do all of this. If that's true there has to be _something_ that can stop it from reacting. If I could do Soul Menace like Professor Stein I might be able to interfere with it, but I don't know how to do that technique yet."

Deep within his chest she could still see Arachne's soul pulsing in erratic tendencies, sometimes coming on strong followed by brief periods of momentary relief for Soul. If only she could use magic of her own and put up a barrier like Soul Protect or something to that nature then maybe she could block whatever it was out there that was making it act like this.

Or maybe she didn't need magic, she realized.

Stepping over to the Death Scythe as she remained curled up in the corner of his room, she knelt down beside him and placed a comforting hand upon his shoulder, causing him to look up with a panicked expression.

"Maka, what are you doing? Get back," he implored, trying to worm his way around her to distance himself from her, but her firm grip prevented him from doing so. "I don't want to hurt you again."

"It's alright, I have an idea," she said, knowing that he would never do anything to harm her intentionally. "Let's try resonating. If we do that then I can use my Anti-Demon Wavelength to block out whatever is causing this."

Looking down and away, his lingering silence spoke of reluctance to her proposal. While he understood that her special wavelength could filter out Madness and to a certain degree magic, something in his conscience told him that having them perform a resonance wasn't the ideal solution. It wasn't that he didn't trust her abilities, in fact he had placed his life in them on more than one occasion, but some little voice inside his head said that this just wasn't a good idea.

"You're not going to hurt me," her voice spoke out beside him tenderly as her hand squeezed lightly upon his shoulder. "I know you won't."

There was a certain comfort that came with hearing her say those words, and despite his earlier forewarnings and wishes to keep her at a safe distance he could feel himself slowly begin to disregard his own advice. Although still reluctant, he heaved a heavy sigh as the pulses coming from Arachne's soul fell momentarily in their intensity and he nodded his head in approval.

"Okay," he stated, unfurling his arms from around his knees and shifting to meet her. Allowing her to place both hands upon his shoulders, he closed his eyes and drooped his head slightly as he tried to calm himself to perform a resonance with her. Feeling the light of her soul reaching out to him like a glowing beacon, her wavelength moved to synchronize with his own as spiritual static crackled between the two glowing orbs.

In its inception the resonance began as seamlessly as it usually did, but as the cyclic amplification of souls began to accelerate Maka instinctively knew that something was amiss. There was a foreign, albeit prominent, presence that was intertwined within Soul's wavelength that she automatically deduced had to be coming from Arachne and it was throwing interference into the middle of their resonance. As the harmonic power between them closed in upon its zenith, the spiritual connection linking their two souls began to experience severe disruptions in the way of distortion that caused the back and forth flow between them to sputter and lose its rhythmic momentum. With a faint grunt of aggravation, Maka steadied herself to try to get everything back under control, but her efforts would come to bear no fruit. The way things were, Arachne's meddling into their resonance was making Soul's wavelength too sporadic, throwing everything out of time. Then with a sharp pang of interference, the resonance was severed and the energy accumulated expelled in a forceful shock that sent the two partners staggering back from one another in bewilderment.

"What was that?" Maka questioned in rhetoric disbelief, already knowing full well what had transpired within their soul space.

"Arachne's soul's throwing everything out of whack," Soul replied with a huffing sigh, figuring that something along that line was going to happen. "I can't keep my wavelength stable enough to make a connection with you."

"Maybe if we tried again?" she offered up in equal parts consolation, concern, and determination.

"It's no use. Whatever's going on with Arachne's soul isn't going to let us resonate. If we tried again we'll probably just make it worse," Soul growled in frustration as the lingering backlash of the failed resonance was replaced by the sensation of the Spider Witch's soul reacting to the Pull once again. In fact, if he had to say, their attempt at a Soul Resonance had actually made the violet orb residing inside him to become even more stimulated in its desire to unleash unbridled destruction. Focusing in on the world around him, he fought back the temptations that came and went in spontaneous waves. It was like a sneeze, he figured, but far more consequential. It was there, just teetering on the edge and begging for him to let it out. He could hold it back and force it back down again, but that would only make it come out even more violently once it did. It wasn't a matter of if, but only a matter of when it would happen.

"Maka, go get Kid," he grunted as he slumped back into the corner of the room. "Whatever's going on, it's not just happening to me. There's witches all over Death City right now and my gut's telling me that they're feeling the Pull too. If that's happening, we're in trouble."

"Are you crazy? I'm not leaving you alone like this," she rebutted firmly.

"Dammit, Maka, don't you get it?!" he snapped sharply in aggravation, misdirecting his jumbled cocktail of emotions onto her. "This is bigger than just me! There's dozens of witches in the city and they're all about to go off the edge! If they do then everybody's in danger! Now go get Kid! I'll stay here and wait for Blair to come back with Stein!"

"But-!"

"Now, Maka! We don't have time to worry about me! Go!" he commanded harshly with an underlying tone of pleading lacing his straining voice. Flashing brilliant against the night, his right arm took his scythe form, slicing clean through the upper part of his desk and chair. Clenching the bladed appendage, an utter look of self-scorn filled his features, horrified at what was becoming of him because of Arachne and the Pull.

Retreating backwards with hesitant steps, Maka could only watch on helplessly as she paused at the threshold of the doorway for one final look into the corner before she bolted in flight from the scene. Rushing back into her own room, faint droplets of tears lined her stricken face as she hurriedly changed from her pajamas into a set of sweats and pulled on a pair of running shoes. Wiping the waterworks from her eyes, she threw a hoodie on over everything and was out the door in a flash, sprinting with all the strength her legs could muster towards Gallows Manor.

Echoing hollowly against the chilled winter's night, the heavy footfalls of her frantic pace and the labored gasping of her breathing were the only sounds to be heard. Passing beneath streetlights and by darkened homes, she turned her gaze skyward as she ran, watching as the crimson blood filtered through the ominously wicked grin of the moon.

It was all so wrong, she thought to herself as she turned a corner and dashed down a barren city street. The Black Blood Moon was gone, she couldn't sense any traces of Asura or his heightened Madness, and Soul was now being influenced by the Pull of Magic. On top of that she didn't even want to begin accepting the visions of Crona she had seen before she bolted upright in terror from her nightmare. Absolutely nothing that was transpiring around her was making any sense.

Reverberating around her in a thunderous ruckus, a booming wave of sound rocked the otherwise still December night, causing the Meister to screech to a halt along the cobblestone pavement. Spinning about, she found a towering pillar of orange and red flame rising into the sky several blocks away, churning thick smoke that formed pitch black clouds over the city.

"An explosion?!" she gasped with widened eyes.

Following through with two more blasts in separate locations throughout the city, Maka stood petrified as the columns of twisting fire began to grow in their intensity, fueled by the buildings they had started to consume unimpeded. Entranced by the roaring infernos, she found it near impossible to look away as they swayed and danced to a symphony of destruction, illuminating the shadowy silhouettes of homes and businesses as suffocating blankets of embers and ash floated juxtaposed to the light of the moon they hindered.

From somewhere in the back of her mind a little voice told her to move, to turn her back to the horrific scene unraveling before her, but her body was slow to respond. Shakily she turned herself in the direction she had been going, her sight not wanting to leave the hypnotic waltz of the fire as yet another series of concussive explosions rang out in an infernal chorus. Forcing herself around, her legs began to move once more as she broke into a full sprint and regained awareness of why she had been running in the first place.

"Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay," she chanted, not knowing exactly upon whom she was directing her hopeful pleas, but saying them all the same as she turned down yet another avenue and headed towards the outer limits of Death City. Images of Soul, Crona, her father, and everyone else at the Academy flashed through her head as she sprinted, although a faint glimmer of rationality told her that it was the civilians who were most at risk. Her only hope now was that the emergency plan was as simple and sound as Kid made it out to be. That and Blair.

* * *

Five minutes after her hasty departure from Soul and Maka's apartment, Blair reached the off-putting, and frankly rather creepy, home of Professor Stein and Marie that resided on the outermost limits of Death City. Diving down out of the moonlit night, the magically airborne pumpkin that she rode screeched to a halt just outside the stitched up building. Dismissing the magic vegetable with the snap of her fingers, a puff of purple smoke filled the air as the woman stepped forward.

"Well, this is the place," she commented shakily, suddenly having second thoughts about going and waking the deranged doctor from his slumber. She was hard pressed to say that they were acquaintances by any stretch of the imagination, and although she knew that he had supposedly mellowed out following the battle upon the moon and his marriage, her nerves were still admittedly on edge on how the eccentric and unpredictable man would respond to her late night intrusion on his sleep.

Steeling herself as she approached the door, she searched around for some form of doorbell that she could possibly ring, but couldn't spy any to speak of. Huffing slightly at the inconvenience, she raised a manicured fist and rapped gingerly upon the threshold with barely enough force to make a sound.

"Well…I guess nobody's home, nyah!" she remarked with a faint cheeriness in her voice. Making a hasty about face, she had taken several steps in retreat before a sharp twinge of guilt fell over her. Trudging to a halt, she begrudgingly looked back over her shoulder at the doorway and was reminded of the mission she was sent to accomplish.

"No, no, no! Bad, Blair! Bad!" she scolded firmly to herself, shaking her head as she dismissed the waves of fright that hindered her. "Can't go being a fraidy-cat now. You've got to do this for Soul and Maka. They need your help."

Breathing in a deep breath of determination, the magical black cat pulled her shoulders back and puffed out her already sizable chest, marching smartly back to the doorway. Raising her fist, several pounding repetitions befell the threshold that she were sure could be heard even in a deep sleep.

"Professor Stein!" she called out. "Professor Stein! It's Blair! Are you in the-?!"

Cut off in her shouts, a shrill, feminine shriek came forth from the inner depths of the stitched up household, sending the feline scurrying back in fright. Quaking in her leg length boots, her imagination ran wild at the horrible things that he must have been doing to the poor soul inside.

"Awww…I knew this was a bad idea, nyah!" she whined, any bravado she had just had moments earlier vanishing in an instant as another banshee-like wail added to the already upset night. "I should go get help, no wait I'm already supposed to be doing that!"

Hearing the clicking of a lock being undone, Blair's sharpened senses picked up on the jiggling of the knob being turned and the almost painfully slow creak of the door as it swung inward upon its hinges. Scared stiff at the thought of her impending dissection, the sight of two glowing orbs shining against the darkened interior prompted a scream of her own to escape her.

Only when the last of the air had vacated her lungs did she see the scientist in his entirety, sitting backwards in a caster chair with a bored, albeit slightly perplexed, façade.

"So…this is the assistance they sent me?" Stein questioned flatly, giving an exhaustive sigh as he reached up and gave the screw in his head a few clicking turns. "I was expecting Nygus, but I suppose it could be worse. Very well then, come on in. She's in the bedroom."

Giving a kick against the floor, the bespectacled man was consumed by the shadows of the interior, leaving Blair standing just outside the darkened entrance stunned, bewildered, and ever wary. Peering deep inside, she tried to make out any trace of danger that might be lurking beyond the concealing veil, but was unable to do so. Heaving a weighted sigh, she hoped for a moment she wasn't being lured into a trap. After all, she still had a mission to accomplish.

"Well you know what they say, curiosity killed the cat," she droned to herself in self-deprecation as she took a few hesitating steps inside.

Utilizing her natural feline traits, her golden eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness, allowing her to see that the interior of the home wasn't nearly as unsettling as she had envisioned within her mind. The living room was quaintly furnished with little potted plants growing out of various glass beakers and tubes and the décor had obviously been given a woman's touch. Following the squeaking of the caster chair as Stein rolled past the living room and into a side hallway, Blair could hear painful moans coming from just beyond a doorway at the end of the corridor. Stopping dead in her tracks, the hairs on the back of her neck sprung to life while her body froze in place.

Seeing the frightened feline, Stein swiveled about in his chair, eying the woman with both stoic curiosity and exasperation.

"There's nothing to fear. I have her restrained," he stated nonchalantly, light filtering into the hallway as he pushed the door open and wheeled his way within.

Wondering what on earth the eccentric scientist meant by his remark, little voices inside Blair's head were telling her to high-tail it out of the stitched up house before she ended up on the other end of whatever was going on beyond the bedroom door. Tortuous screams and a need for restraints certainly weren't what she had in mind when Maka had told her to come get Stein in the middle of the night. But on that same token, the clock was ticking and her precious Scythey-boy was in trouble. Going against her better judgment, she told herself that leaving the house without Stein in tow would be an upmost failure on her part and she wouldn't be able to forgive herself if anything happened to Soul or Maka because of her incompetence. Pressing her hand against the door, she entered the room with the upmost apprehension.

Readjusting to the glowing lamplight that cast itself about the bedroom, Blair's manicured fingers found their way over her mouth as she gasped in equal shock and embarrassment at the sight before her. There, lying in the center of the bedspread in front of her was Marie still clad in her nightgown with leather restraints latched around her wrists that were fastened to the either side of the headboard. Covered in a sheen of profuse perspiration that seeped into the bedspread, her breathing was shallow and haggard as she released another moan.

"Nyah, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to see! I-I think I'll just be going now!" Blair wailed in apology, turning crimson red as she shut her eyes, concluding that the moans and restraints and sweat were all the result of something more…adult… than she had been anticipating. Not that she was a prude by any stretch of the imagination, but being caught in the middle of someone else's bedroom fantasies was certainly more than she had bargained for when she had departed Maka and Soul's apartment.

From his position in his backwards chair, Professor Stein merely raised a quizzical brow as he eyed the obviously uncomfortable woman.

"There's no need to be squeamish," he stated casually. "If you're already getting cold feet just standing there you're not going to be any use to me in helping deliver the baby."

"Deliver the baby?" Blair repeated in confusion, blinking a few times as she turned her head from the scientist over to Marie and back again. "You mean…?"

"That's what the Academy sent you over here for, isn't it?" Stein asked, concluding by the befuddled expression over Blair's face that she most assuredly had no idea of what he was referring to. He should have expected as much, however. Why would they send the magical cat over to help him with his current predicament?

"I suppose not," he sighed lightly. "Well either way your assistance would be appreciated. I'm reluctant to admit it, but delivering a child is not exactly one of my specialties. I don't exactly have what one would call a nurturing enough personality necessary for a procedure like this."

"I'll help out however I can, but I didn't come here just for that," Blair stated, remembering the reason for her being there in the first place. "You see, Maka sent me to come and get you! It's an emergency! Soul is-!"

"Being influenced by the Pull of Magic," Stein finished, standing up from his chair and glancing at Marie who remained in her bonds. Moving over to a medical cart that was parked in the corner of the room, he picked up a syringe and a bottle of clear fluid. "Yes, I'm quite aware of that. The same thing is happening to Marie, and if my assumption is correct, to the other Death Scythes and witches as well. That's why I have her restrained, although I'm not sure how long she'll stay that way. Marie's incredibly strong as is and the effect the Pull is having on Freya's soul is only going to make matters more complicated."

"Freya? Is that the witch's soul inside her?" Blair wondered in worry, feeling awful for having to watch Marie suffer in such a way.

"Yes. The witch Freya was the one Marie defeated and consumed all those years ago. She's the one who gives her abilities as a Death Scythe," Stein confirmed, filling the syringe with the concoction from the bottle and walking over to his wife.

As if to illustrate his point, Marie let loose from her place on the bedspread with an agonizing scream of pain, sparks of yellow electricity coursing around her body as she bowed outwards against her restraints. Dropping back down onto the mattress, her haggard golden hair veiled her distraught face as she slumped limply with her head lolled against her chest.

"Please…" she muttered weakly, her voice cracking in choking sobs at barely over a whisper. "Please, Franken…save the child."

Striding over to the bedside with syringe in hand, Stein took hold of his wife's wrist just below her restraints and injected the serum into her vein.

"We're going to help you through this, Marie. I promise you nothing is going to happen to our child," he stated in consolation, taking her hand and holding it in his for a brief moment. For a fleeting moment his lips turned upwards into a faint smile and his features softened as he looked down upon her in her pitiful condition. It was barely recognizable, but there appeared to be a look of compassion and tenderness in those otherwise neutral hazel green eyes.

Letting his hand slip from hers, he stood up and subconsciously plunged the appendage into the depths of his lab coat, fishing in vain for his box of cigarettes. Questioning to himself how many times he was going to continue to repeat that habitual mistake, he reached up to the screw jutting out his head and gave a few clicking turns before hearing a sharp click lock into place.

"While it may not be as effective as the real thing, the serum I just gave her should help to induce labor," he stated, speaking solemnly as though to himself, but knowing that Blair could hear what he was saying. "Under any other circumstances I would concede my limited knowledge in child bearing to the experts and take Marie to a proper hospital. However, given the current situation I don't believe that would be the wisest decision. Who knows what kind of havoc she could unleash if she was under the influence of the Pull inside a hospital. Also, with regards to your own emergency, I'm afraid I can't help you. My sympathies to Soul and Maka, but my first priority right now is to ensure Marie and our child are safe. After that it'll be cleaning up whatever mess tonight might hold in store for us and getting to the bottom of this whole issue with the Pull."

"So…you can't help Soul?" she questioned dejectedly, biting her thumb in a worrisome tick.

"No. Unfortunately, he and Maka are on their own for this one. However, your help would still be greatly appreciated here."

Hearing Marie give a sudden pain-laden shout, Stein could instinctively tell that the medicine he had given her was beginning to take effect.

"I'll do whatever you need me to," she agreed.

"Can you make coffee?" he questioned with surprising casualness given the current situation.

"Uh-huh," the woman nodded with vigorous enthusiasm, knowing that was certainly one thing she could do to offer up her services.

"Then do me a favor and start brewing some, would you? Black preferably. I have a feeling that we're all in for quite a night."

* * *

Charging up the drive to Gallows Manor, thick rivulets of sweat ran down Maka's face and onto the collar of her hoodie, soaking into the cotton fabric and chilling her bare skin beneath. The run from her apartment to the lavish mansion hadn't taken the Scythe Meister any more than fifteen minutes at the most, but she could have sworn that it had taken much longer than that. Her heart, her mind, and her body were all racing as she at last reached the grand double doors of the manor and began pounding her fist on the wood.

"Kid! Kid!" she shouted, her voice lurching into her throat as she tried to reign in her heaving gasps for air. "Wake up! It's an emergency!"

Slamming her fists against the hardened black oak in repetition, waves of pain began to shoot from her bruised fingers, but she barely registered them as she continued to plead for the shinigami to wake up and witness for himself what was happening across the city.

"Kid! Liz! Patty! Anybody!" she forced out, having half the mind for a brief moment to just shatter a window and break in. However, much to her own relief, she heard the clicking of a lock behind the doorway and the flood of yellow light as the entrance swung inwards.

"Maka?" Liz questioned wearily, still clad in her pajamas and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes as she took in the sight of their late night inquirer. "What's with all the yelling? Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Where's Kid?!" Maka demanded, bursting inside.

"He's sleeping, duh," the eldest Thompson yawned, too tired to comprehend the franticness in Maka's voice. "What's going on? Why are you all sweaty and gross? And what happened to your face?"

"It's the Pull! Something's going on with the Pull and its making all the witches' souls respond to it! It's even making Soul react! We can't even do a Soul Resonance for me to use my Anti-Demon Wavelength!"

Blinking blankly several times, Liz could hear the words coming from her friend, but the fuzziness of her mind still failed to register any coherency amongst them. She heard something about witches and Soul, but the rest was merely a muddled slur of incomprehensible sounds.

"I'm sorry, Maka, I have no idea what you're getting at," she apologized. "Something about Soul? Say that again."

Losing her patience and knowing that they didn't have time for guessing games with the older girl, Maka grabbed Liz by the wrist and with a forceful yank pulled her back out the door she had just came. Hearing yelps of surprise as she practically dragged the Thompson sister into the street, there came a sudden uneasy silence as both girls stood facing the grand silhouette of the cityscape. Gazing up towards the towering constructs that composed the Academy and Death City, raging infernos rose up in scattered pockets across the skyline, nearly blocking out the light of the shining moon above as they churned their thick veils of blackened smoke. It had been so long without seeing the lunar entity that she had almost forgotten it wasn't supposed to be black.

"What the heck's going on? What happened to the moon?" Liz managed to murmur after several moments, the spectrums of fiery yellows, oranges, crimsons, and blacks reflecting off her blue eyes. Subconsciously she found them almost mesmerizing to watch, the ways the columns of flame bent and contorted around themselves like blazing dancers. They were almost bewitching in their trance.

"Something's going on with the Pull of Magic and its making every witch's soul in the city go off the edge," Maka reiterated, trying her best to slow down her explanation so that she could be understood. "Even Arachne's inside Soul. Her body's gone, but her soul is still responding to it and I don't know how much longer Soul can hold it back. And as for the moon…I-I don't know."

Utter perplexion and apprehension befell the older girl, turning her head to her friend with an aura of concern and confoundment about her and then back to the blazes that continued to engulf various blocks of homes and businesses. The longer she stared into their hearth, the more she became lulled by their movements, intrigued as to how such inanimate phenomena could act with such beautifully destructive grace.

"Wait, what are we doing just standing here?!" she quickly realized, shaking her head as the reality of what was happening across Death City broke her stare. "C'mon, Maka! We need to go get Kid!"

Now fully awake and alert, the two women sprung back inside Gallows Manor, hurrying up the grand stairwell at the back of the entrance with the Thompson sister leading the way.

"This doesn't make any sense. Do you think the Coven is behind this?" Liz questioned hurriedly, looking behind her as they sprinted down a hollow hallway towards the shinigami's room. "What if they've been planning this all along?"

"I really don't think that's it," Maka replied, staying right on Liz's heels as they rounded a corner and came upon another barren corridor. "Blair said that she thinks it has something to do with the moon, but I don't know what it would be that's strong enough to make a witch's soul with no body want to start destroying everything."

"You don't think it has something to do with Asura, do you? Like his Madness making them do it?"

"It's not his Madness though, it's the Pull. But that doesn't explain what happened to him or the moon. Either way we need to do something or else the whole city is in trouble."

Coming upon a set of double doors at the end of the hallway, Liz and Maka burst through the distinctive black entrance with a Death Skull hanging symmetrically in its center, never even bothering to knock as they disregarded any formalities in their state of urgency. Creating a prominent clamor as the doors were practically separated off their hinges, the two hurried over to the grand bedspread in which Kid lay in the exact center of, stiff as a board with no part of his body disproportionately sprawled out to one side of the mattress or the other. Taking in the sight, Maka wondered for a moment if this was how he always slept. It was almost creepy in a sense, because it gave him the appearance of a cadaver who had been arranged that way purposefully for his final viewing. However, those thoughts were quickly dismissed as Liz bounded upon the bed and without any sense of tact or inhibition straddled herself over either side of his chest.

"Kid! Hey, Kid! Wake up! We've got an emergency!" she barked, making the urgency of the situation well known as she took hold of his shoulders and flailed him about violently. Snapping his golden eyes open as his head flung limply to and fro, the shinigami let out a startled cry of protest as the Demon Pistol continued to give him a serious case of whiplash.

"Ahh, I'm awake! I'm awake!" he managed to shout out, grateful when he felt Liz's hands release him and his rattled cranium plop back down onto the pillows below. Feeling her weight crawl off of his chest, he managed to raise himself to meet his unexpected wake up call, rubbing the crook of his neck sorely.

"What's the meaning of this, Liz? What's going on?" he questioned tiresomely in soft demand for an explanation, his vision adjusting to the darkness and making out the form of Maka standing by his bedside alongside Liz.

"Kid, something really, really bad is happening!" Liz rushed to explain. "The Black Blood around the moon is gone and for some reason it's making the witches go nuts! They're attacking the city!"

"What?!" Kid yelled, throwing the covers from his form and bolting upright so that he was standing before the two women in his Death Skull boxer shorts. "How did this happen?! Is Asura loose again?! And why would the witches be attacking?!"

"We don't know, Kid. It's really strange," Maka said, watching as the shinigami sprinted over to his closet, throwing the double doors open and began getting dressed at a frantic pace. "The Black Blood is gone, but I can't sense any trace of Asura. But now something is happening with the Pull of Magic and its making all the witches in the city go off the edge. It's even happening to Soul. Arachne's soul is causing so much interference we can't even resonate."

"Is there any possibility that Asura could have broken free and is hiding somewhere else?" he interrogated. "Is it his Madness that's making this happen?"

"I don't know, but I don't think so. Blair said that she could feel a shift in the Pull and that it was coming from the moon. Whatever's going on I don't think Asura's Madness is behind it."

"Kid, you don't think Maba and the Coven could've been planning this all along, do you?" Liz questioned as the shinigami began lacing up his black dress shoes. "What if they've been waiting for us to let our guard down so they could attack?"

"They have no reason to purposefully attack us," Kid stated, standing up and slipping on his coat. "Our relations with Maba and the Coven may not have been as progressive as I would have liked, but we have been making headway ever since the treaty. There haven't been any witch's souls claimed or any confrontations between us, and Maba just agreed to allow younger witches to begin attending the Academy. There's no motive for them to just start attacking out of the blue."

"What if it was all a front though?" Liz rebutted in counterpoint. "What if they've been lying to us this whole time?"

Stopping for a moment as he finished buttoning up his suit, an aura of grave concern and confliction washed over the young Lord Death. Gazing down and away towards the floor, a brief passing of silence followed as he mused upon the situation he had unforeseeably found himself in.

"While that is a possibility, my instinct is telling me that Maba wouldn't go against our treaty like this. Not without some form of provocation on our part," he said, sound in his conviction. "No, something else is going on here and I'm going to get to the bottom of it."

Throwing his cloak around his shoulders, he strode with lengthy steps across the room, pushing the double doors ajar and making his way down the adjoining hallway with a heightened sense of intensity.

"Liz, go wake Patty and both of you hurry up and get dressed," he instructed commandingly. "Contact every Death Scythe and Three Star faculty in the city and tell them I'm initiating Emergency Protocol Eight. Tell them to get their response teams deployed on the double, but make sure that they know that they're only to use non-lethal force. While these are witches we're dealing with I don't want any of them killed until we know for absolute certain what's happening here. Who knows what ramifications killing a witch now might have. Send out the word that all other faculty are to mobilize and get civilians to safety and they are not to engage in combat unless in self-defense. E.A.T. and N.O.T. students are to shelter in place."

"Got it," Liz replied with a nod, understanding her assignment and taking back off in a sprint towards the room she shared with her sister.

Keeping in stride with Kid as they descended the stairwell back towards the front doors of Gallows Manor, Maka was right behind him as he flung the doors open without regard and moved quickly out into the night. Stopping in his pursuits, his gaze grew wide with awestruck horrification at the fires that were blazing over patches of the cityscape. Turning his head upwards, he too now found the moon shining down upon them with blood flowing from between its teeth, its usual crescent shape now so severely warped so that it was nearly circular.

"Maka," Kid addressed gravely with narrowed eyes of the Meister beside him as he took in the entirety of the situation. "I apologize for my upfrontness by asking, but do you think that Crona could have failed? Is there any, I mean any, possibility that Asura overwhelmed them and managed to escape?"

"Like I said before, I don't know for sure," the Meister replied grimly. "I can't extend my Soul Perception to sense either of them since I can't resonate with Soul. The moon's just too far away for me to tell on my own. But…"

Hesitation laced her voice as the images of her nightmare repeated itself in heart-wrenching snippets.

"But what?" Kid wondered, compelling her to finish.

"But…I had a nightmare…about Crona," she continued on, her heart lurching in her chest as churning emotions filled her already aching soul.

* * *

Stretching forth throughout the entirety of the open expanse around her, miles upon miles of rocky sand filled the landscape all the way over the horizon, dotted by dark grey stones that were scattered about at random. Squinting her eyes through the radiating brightness that filled her sight, her vision quickly adjusted to the sunlight bearing down from above.

She knew this place. She had been there before, in what seemed like a time so very long ago as well as yesterday all at once. It was the same desert she had found herself drawn within when she had first utilized the Madness of Soul's Black Blood on the night the Kishin had been released; the second time she and Soul had battled Crona.

"Maka," a voice came from behind her, soft and meek, but with an underlying tone of both wonderment and melancholy.

Spinning around in startled surprise, the Scythe Meister now stood less than an arm's length away from Crona, her soul soaring with awestruck elation at the sight of her pink-haired friend. Unlike the last time they had met within the realm their two souls had created through their mutual connection, Crona was no longer a child and subsequently neither was she. No longer outfitted in their standard black attire, the Demon Swordsman merely stood there in a white suit and pants identical to the one they had been wearing at Kid's party the year prior, their left arm crossed over their chest to grab at their elbow as they looked down and away with an almost apologetic expression.

"Crona…" she managed to force, her voice hitching in her throat as she tried to force down her brimming well of emotions.

Smiling softly, the Demon Swordsman merely nodded in silent affirmation, and before they knew it the Meister had crossed the distance between them, embracing them with all the strength she could muster.

"Crona!" she choked again, squeezing the pinkette like she had never hugged anyone before in her life.

Feeling a warm wetness begin to stain their shoulder, Crona could feel Maka's body reverberate against their own as she tried to hold back each shuddering sob.

"Please don't cry, Maka," they implored tenderly, wrapping their arms around the girl gently in return. "If you start crying, I don't know if I can handle that. It might make me start crying too."

Reaching up, the Scythe Meister wiped the rivulets of tears away from her eyes, noticing the silken fabric glove upon which she had done so. Looking down, she realized that she too had unknowingly gone through a change of wardrobe within the desert dreamscape and that she herself was outfitted in the white version of her Black Blood dress. It was the same one she had been wearing when they had battled Asura upon the moon, after the Black Blood had been purged from Soul's body.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, relaxing her embrace and pulling away with reserve. "It's just that…that…oh, Crona, I'm so sorry. We never wanted to leave you there. Please believe me, there wasn't a day where I didn't think about you. I wanted so badly to find a way to get you out of there and bring you back home to the Academy. Because that's where you belong… with all of us."

"There's no need to be sorry, Maka," Crona replied with sentimental sincerity. "What I did on the moon I did for you. You were the first person one in my whole life who truly showed me any kindness, and for that I can never repay you. You gave me friends…people who actually cared about me no matter what I did, and a real home. But most of all you gave me the courage to make my own decisions. Not Medusa's, not Ragnarok's…but mine. Back there on the moon, that was my choice to make and I wouldn't change it for anything. I did it because I trust you and I wanted to protect you just like you protect me and everybody else."

Turning their reminiscent stare from the sand below back to her, they met her gaze with upturned lips, soft and quivering as though trying to hold back their own cocktail of feelings.

"Even though I still don't know what sins or crimes I've committed, I know that I've done things that made you upset, Maka. And despite those things you still came for me in the Madness," they said, their voice entwined with both wondrous happiness and remorse. "You could've left me there in the darkness, and to be honest I wouldn't have blamed you. You wouldn't have been the first one to abandon me to the Madness…but you didn't. You care too much about other people to do that, and that's what makes you so special, Maka. I only wish I could have done more to be as good of a friend to you and the others as you all were to me. I wish…I wish I could have done more to protect you…but I couldn't."

Trailing down their pale cheeks, glittering droplets dissolved the fragile façade that Crona had erected. Dripping from their chin onto the sand below, tears of guilt-ridden sorrow stained the earth as they cast their head downwards, overwhelmed by the unbearable guilt that filled their heart.

"I'm sorry, Maka," they forced between sobs.

Closing the small gap between them, Maka took the pinkette tenderly in her arms, holding them close as she shushed them in consolation the way a mother would to an upset infant. Against her chest she could feel their reverberating quivering and the remorseful sincerity of their words despite their underlying bleakness.

"It's alright, Crona. It's alright," she whispered, allowing them all the time they needed. "You don't have to be sorry. What you did was the bravest thing I've ever seen and because of it you saved everyone. So no matter what you might think, that makes you a truly wonderful person. There's nothing you can say to make us love you any less than we already do."

Pulling away slightly as they raised their teary-eyed face, the pinkette eyed Maka with a bewildered and puzzled expression, taking a few precious seconds to allow the connotation of her words to sink through.

"Love?" they questioned, as though they couldn't believe that such a word was being used with them in the same sentence. "I-I'm not sure I know how to deal with that. No one… nobody's ever said they loved me before except Medusa…and because she said that I…"

Trailing off, Crona left their words as they stood knowing that the implication of their dark past was clear enough.

"But I know now that that wasn't what love really is," they continued, their tone both bright and somber. "So maybe I can try to deal with it now. Thank you for loving me, Maka, even though I couldn't keep our promise. I'll never forget you."

Looking upon them with concern, there was an implication in their statement that immediately alarmed the Meister.

"What do you mean?" she questioned with a shaky voice, fearful of the answer that she might receive. "You make it sound like this is goodbye."

Smiling tenderly, Crona took in the entirety of the young woman before them who had come and saved them in their darkest hour. They remembered that dress she now wore and how it had faded from the silken black to the snowy white it was now when they had purged the hold of the Black Blood from Soul.

"You look like an angel, Maka," they said distantly, appearing to not hear her inquiry as they spoke. "It's funny, you know? I never believed that angels or heaven existed. There were only demons and the hell inside my head. But when I see you in that dress it makes me feel like angels really do exist. And you're the most beautiful one of all."

Swelling deep within her Grigori soul, wave upon crashing wave of confliction filled Maka's spirit as she struggled to come to terms with what she was hearing. Clenching her eyes shut, part of her wanted to blush from Crona's remark, while other parts of her wanted to release every ounce of brewing pain and emotion that were tugging at her heart. The latter eventually prevailed as she reached out and pulled her friend in close, burrowing her head into their chest as she wailed in sorrowful denial.

From the edge of her mind she could feel the brilliance of the sun above them begin to fade, giving way to the darkness. Clenching Crona with all of her strength, she pleaded between her heartbroken cries in defiant denial.

"No…no! Please, no!" she implored with a gasping sob, the warmth of Crona's own embrace slowly leaving her to the hollow void that now surrounded them. "Don't go! Please don't go!"

"Thank you, Maka. Thank you for everything. Be strong. And remember… no matter where you go, I'll always love you."

Vanishing into the cold, dark black, Maka stood within the emptiness with eyes scrunched shut and face puffed red. Trailing down her cheekbone and onto her chin, relinquished droplets flowed in a steady drip upon the floor. Quaking against her heels, her entire being shuddered violently as she balled her fists tight against the silk of her gloves; her mind running rampant with chaotic confliction.

"Crona!"

Turning her chin towards the hollow heavens, she released one final departing testament to her sorrow before she was pulled from her dreamscape, the strain of her voice following her back into reality as she bolted upright in her bed.

* * *

Tossing and churning in the depths of the chilled December's night, Shuvo's restless form rolled about his floor-bound mattress while he subconsciously pulled the thin sheets that covered him over his shoulders. Trembling in no ways due in part to the temperature of his room, his chocolate irises eventually gave in to the unknown distress that plagued his sleep, opening up to the faint illumination that came in through his window blinds. Rubbing the temples of his shaven head, he gently parted his covers from over him and sat upright, trying to gain an understanding of why he was unable to find any form of solace from his insomnia. It was truly unlike him, as although he was a rather light sleeper, he very rarely found himself unable to drift back off into his blissful state of rest.

Something about the night just didn't feel right, he concluded. Whether it might have been something he ate at the start of the previous day coming back to unsettle him, or an oncoming fever, which he hoped he wasn't coming down with, he just couldn't seem to pinpoint what it was about him that made it so difficult for him to fall back asleep. Seeing as how it was useless to debate with himself on the matter considering the increased level of mental activity would only exasperate his unrest, he stood up from his mattress and shuffled tiredly over to his doorway. Slipping into the hallway, he made sure to be extra quiet as he moved past Mirika's room and eventually into the kitchen to get himself a glass of water that would hopefully calm him.

Taking several long gulps to quench his midnight thirst, Shuvo let out a sigh of content as he finished off the glass. Placing it in the sink, he moved back towards the hallway before a shadow of a figure caught his eye juxtaposed against the light filtering in through the living room window. Momentarily caught on edge, his heart rate lowered when he saw that it was only his Meister who appeared to be up as well.

"Mirika? What are you doing up at this hour?" he questioned softly, moving over to the window beside her. "Were you not able to sleep as well?"

Remaining entirely silent to his inquiry, the girl continued to gaze distantly out the glass with a thousand-mile stare, lost in some deep and brooding thought. In that state she stayed for several lingering moments, contemplating on something the monk could only guess before she finally answered him.

"Listen," she whispered, prompting Shuvo to stand absolutely still and focus his attention on his senses.

It didn't take long for his ears to pick up on something faint, but nonetheless recognizable. It was the telltale sound of thunder rolling in from the distance, which struck him as peculiar, but in no ways entirely out of the ordinary. While Death City was indeed located in the middle of a desert, they still did experience the occasional patches of inclement weather.

"Is there a storm coming?" he questioned curiously.

"No," she replied, her timbre firm and dark, prompting the khakkhara to wonder just what his partner was hearing that he wasn't. Then coming out of the late night hour, a screeching, piercing wail erupted from the streets surrounding their apartment. Loud and droning as it lilted in volume, it was sure to jar even the most unresponsive of sleepers from their beds. Quickly joining it, more of the wails harmonized from the distance in a haunting, ominous choir.

"Sirens?" Shuvo stated, wondering what on earth could be happening to warrant such a citywide alert.

Erupting bright in hellish shades of yellow and orange, the rooftop of a building in the not-so far distance sent both Meister and Weapon reeling backwards. Watching in awestruck horrification as the blaze began to rise into the night sky, Shuvo found himself in utter disbelief about what he was witnessing as no sooner after the explosion a clamorous pounding was heard at their door. Pulling himself away from the trance of the window just long enough to answer, he rushed over to the frantic knocking and flung the entrance open. Finding the redheaded Rapier Meister Casandra Solerno standing on the other side of the threshold, the younger N.O.T. student was still clad in her pajamas and appearing justifiably frazzled. Down the hallway the shouts of her partner Allyson Caldwell could be heard as she was busy pounding on another neighbor's door.

Struggling to find her voice, Casandra took a precious second to reel in her hysterical state as her message came out with a panicked squeak.

"W-Witches! The witches are attacking!"

* * *

**A/N: Hello everyone, K.K. here reporting in. **

**Again, I must apologize for the delay in this chapter. Please believe me, I wish I could just churn out ten thousand word chapters one after the other every two weeks, but I can't. Its just that right now more important matters are at work in my life that require my immediate attention. I'm about to finish up my six months of vocational school, so I have about three weeks to figure out if I'm going to be employed, where I'm going to live, how I'm going to make this career work, etc. etc. Most of my writing now is dedicated to job applications and resumes. **

**Anyways, enough about that. Just wanted to touch base on the story. I hope ya'll are enjoying it as much as I am. With this chapter, Karma and Reaction has hit the 200,000+ word milestone, a feat shared by only 15 other English fics on this site. So yeah, I'm pretty excited for that. Also, not trying to fish for compliments, but I really would love to see this fic get some more favorites, followers, and reviews. I know I don't write romance (which tends to bring in a lot of attention on this site) or update as regularly as I would like, but I would love to hear your opinions on the characters and plot, or just any theories or questions you may have. **

**P.S.- This chapter's soundtrack is brought to you by Coheed and Cambria's songs "The Reaping" and "No World For Tomorrow". Gonna go see them on tour next week! So excited!**

**K.K. **


	27. Requiem de Pandemonium: Part I

Chapter 27: Requiem de Pandemonium: Part I: An Ephemeral Backtrack or An Unrequited Prayer?

Having fallen over the crest of the horizon many hours ago, the laughter of the burning sun had dutifully given way to the glimmering expanse above as well as the star-stealing void that was the moon. Ever grandiose in its presence, its liquid black surface cast only the faintest of reflections to indicate that there was ever anything in the celestial sky to begin with. It was a sight most somber that concurrently filled the gazing patrons of the earth below with an intuitive marvel at its presence.

From the confines of his home far below the magnificent nightly jewel, Professor Craftlove stood at the threshold of his bedroom window with arms folded across his tattooed chest and chin turned towards the heavens. Hidden within those blackened sacred eyes inked into his skin, distant irises seemed glazed over in a mixture of brooding uneasiness and analytical contemplation. How he longed for the accursed sensation to let him rest in peace, but he knew better than anyone else that to hope for such alleviation was only wishful thinking. The nightmares that relentlessly haunted him for weeks on end now had only increased in their wicked vividness, leaving him to bolt from his sleep drenched in a sheen of his own perspiration every night without fail. It had gotten to the point now to where he wouldn't even fall asleep alongside Cana anymore so as not to disturb her own slumber, becoming almost wearisome in its habituation. At her pressing insistence he would reluctantly join her beneath the silken covers with her slender frame curled up beside him, but the sweet lull of sleep never would come. Biding his time, he would patiently wait for his lover to reach her world of dreams before silently slipping the sheets from his form and sneaking off into his study, where he would begrudgingly turn his reading lamp on and bury his nose in whatever book was most readily available to him. The subject of the text didn't matter in the slightest to him so long as it kept his mind from wandering back towards his hellish dreamscapes. Biology, however, would eventually prove to be the victor and he would find his head bobbing in exhaustion. He would glance up towards the grandfather clock in the corner of the study, remark to himself that he had to be up to teach in two or three hours, and with a heavy sigh trudge his way from his to the living room where he would curl up with a blanket and spare pillow to try to catch at least a little bit of rest.

In the end it made no difference. The visions would come for him all the same.

However, on this particular night he had begun his routine by sneaking away from his bed, but rather than go lose himself in some trivial novel he had already read once before, he found himself drawn to a silent call radiating from a place far beyond his home. Casting the curtains aside, his intuition drew his attention upwards towards the moon where the Kishin Asura and the Demon Swordsman Crona remained steadfast in their imprisonment. Taking in the serenity of the ungodly hour, he breathed in deep and heavy with air that was saturated with an ominous aura, releasing it after several seconds in a controlled escape. Even if he truly desired sleep, his mind wouldn't have allowed it. Ever-thinking and ever-analyzing, his thoughts were far from quiet despite his half-hearted attempts to ease them.

Reaching up, he softly touched the pyramid and crescent moon tattoo that was centered upon his brow.

"Damn you, you old ghost," he muttered softly, feeling the dull, pulsing throb that had been plaguing him in its ministrations. "Why won't you just leave me be?"

Sighing once more, he closed his eyes to muse upon his woes, but was brought out of his self-deprecation when he heard the rustling of the bedsheets behind him. Turning about, he found Cana sprawled out across the mattress with her arm stretching towards his empty half as she subconsciously searched for his absent self to cling onto. Finding nothing but silken sheets to grasp, she managed to take hold of his pillow and pulled it in close, wrapping her arms around its middle as she spooned with the silken cushion. Smiling softly in contention, her movement settled to leave the room in silence.

He couldn't help but let a faint, deceiving smile cross his lips at the sight of her slumbering so peacefully and subliminally longing to hold him close to her. She truly was a beauty beyond compare in his eyes; a cocoa-skinned shakti with a flowing cascade of raven's hair complemented by a rapier's wit and a soul overflowing with compassionate empathy. How he had ever managed to find a woman so tender and fond in the ways of the heart were beyond his comprehension. He was fully aware that he was undeserving of having someone like her by his side, especially with the way he would attempt to hide his own trepidations from her. However, he couldn't keep anything from her even if he tried. Their souls were too far entwined for them to disguise what they were feeling, whether it be happiness, sadness, contention, envy, love, lust, tranquility, or foreboding. Morning after morning she would awake to find him sleeping on the sofa and question why he did so and morning after morning he would find some vague excuse about burning the midnight oil and not wishing to disturb her or claiming he'd been having insomnia and the sofa was his only cure. Despite his efforts of evasion, however, Cana could see easily into the window of his soul and sensed that something was terribly amiss. She could see it upon his face as she watched him thoughtfully the same way he now did to her; the telltale indicators upon his sweating and convulsing face that whatever he was seeing within his subconscious was far from blissful.

Stepping gingerly through the darkness, he knelt down beside Cana's sleeping form to take her in from the new angle. Merely content to gaze upon her for the time being, she appeared so delicate and at ease as the sheets rose and fell softly with every breath. There was a rogue tuft of hair that fell in front of her face to obscure his view and for a fleeting moment he wanted to reach out and remove it back behind her ear before dismissing the notion. He didn't wish to wake her until he needed to. For the time being it was best to let her sleep soundly and dream of matters far more pure than his own premonitions.

"What did I do to deserve all of this?" he wondered to himself in rhetoric, his tone somewhere between uncertain depression and heartfelt endearment as he mused heavily upon the contrasting subject matters that fought for dominance within his psyche.

Like the bones of the elderly before the storm, Craftlove needn't see the dark clouds over the horizon that carried with them a thunderous fury, but rather intuitively felt their threatening presence all the same. Although the remainder of the world remained blissfully ignorant to its strengthening aura, the sensation of imminence that tainted the air offered him not a moment's peace. Just what exactly composed said feeling of impending discord he couldn't say for certain, although he silently hoped that all of it was nothing more than some form of mental construction. He would much rather take the chances of falling into insanity than the illusions of his dreamscape becoming reality.

Taking a seat just upon the edge of the mattress so as to not disrupt Cana, he slumped down as a wave of uncertainty befell him, burying his marked face in his hands. Releasing a faint huff, his swirling pool of thought took him back to only a few short years ago when both she and him had been stationed in England as part of the DWMA's European Division. Life there for the most part had been pleasant enough with their day to day duties of seeking and destroying corrupted souls and the occasional paperwork that came with being a pair of Two Stars. Although they could have gone for the level of Three Star and Death Scythe had they felt inclined to, they found the simple life in their shared countryside flat to be far more enjoyable than the added stresses of a higher rank. Their lives back then were rather routine, but that seemed to suite them just fine.

Finding himself recollecting on scattered memories without any particular rhyme or reason as they flashed though his psyche, his mind decided to focus in on one in particular. It was of a day that had happened around the same season three years prior, and why his subconscious had randomly chosen said memory he hadn't a clue. Winter had befallen the quaint English town they had taken up residence in, blanketing the charming buildings and streets with a sheet of white. Standing proud and erect in the market center, a festive evergreen covered with snaking lights and glittering tinsel towered above the evening patrons who went to and fro from shop to shop. It was a Saturday evening he recalled and just a few days before Christmas's arrival as he and Cana strolled around the town square with no particular agenda on their minds other than getting out of the flat for a little while. They had stopped and gotten supper at the local tavern, browsed through an antique bookshop to help pass the time, and then decided upon coffee to help fend off the winter's chill as they glanced at the various wares in the shop windows. Walking along in pleasant silence, they had long since surpassed the need for idle chatter in order to find comfort in the company of the other.

Passing before a storefront, a glimmer had caught his attention that pulled him momentarily towards the lighted display. Halting in his footsteps, it took a brief moment for Cana to realize that he was no longer beside her.

"What did you find?" she inquired, backtracking a few steps to gaze into the storefront alongside her partner. Following his line of sight, she noticed the variety of jewelry laid out in meticulous arrangement upon a bed of red velvet to bask beneath the glow of the light above. Collections of luxurious pocket watches, bracelets, and necklaces made of polished gold, silver, titanium, and precious stones adorned the otherwise humble boutique with their brilliant luster.

However, as she followed his gaze, she found that none of those items were the ones that had grabbed him, but rather a quaint collection of rings presented in their velvet boxes beside them. There were about a dozen of the symbols of eternal love, each one ranging in degrees of design and exquisiteness. Like the watches and bracelets beside them, they were crafted from lustrous gold or sterling silver and ornamented with dazzling diamonds and other assorted gems.

"Do you think we should get married?"

The question slipped off of his tongue before he even realized its implication. In the simple spur of the moment the thought running through his brain had somehow bypassed his mental filter and gone straight to his mouth. For several awkward-filled seconds he stood frozen in shock of his own foolishness, mentally cursing himself for asking such a question in the same nonchalant manner he would ask where they should go to eat. He hadn't as much fear of her answer as he did of his own inability to comprehend how he allowed the inquiry to slip through.

His anxiety, however, was laid to rest as Cana moved close to him and wrapped her arm around the crook of his own.

"Hmmm…I'm not sure," she answered with a coy, teasing tone as she rested her head against his shoulder. "Always was hoping to find the ol' clichéd tall dark and mysterious man with a vineyard estate and a yacht to sail the world in, but I suppose I'll just have to settle for what I can get."

"Well then my sincerest apologies if I don't meet your stringent criteria," Craftlove replied in mocking jest as a faint smile formed upon his lips. "I can only offer you my love and all the baggage that comes with it.

"There's always a catch, isn't there?" Cana giggled, nuzzling up a little closer into his wool jacket.

"Besides, you're not particularly fond of bitter things and you've already gotten to see most of the world when we're on missions," he added smoothly.

"True," she sighed, feeling the warmth of his body heat touching her cheek even through the winter layers he had on. Or perhaps it was the faint flush of rosiness that painted her face as she basked in the newfound stillness. Either way she wasn't going to complain.

Standing before the diamond rings, they both looked upon them absently as they glimmered off the window pane with neither of them speaking a word. While one of them took simple pleasure in their intimate closeness, the other contemplated on many natures of questions pertaining their previous momentary lapse of judgment. The answer they had received hadn't been an airtight one of confirmation, although they supposed that was most certainly better than a heart wrenching rejection; not that they had anticipated it as such to begin with. It was more the principle of the matter than anything else.

"Do you remember that day at the Academy when we first met?" Cana wondered, looking absently into the glass in front of her.

"Of course, although the circumstance leading up to it is one I'd rather forget," Craftlove replied with a hint of unpleasantness in his voice. "Sent before Lord Death on the very first day of class. Not exactly what one would call a memorable first impression now was it?"

How he remembered the unwavering sternness in his past instructor's voice as he adamantly insisted that the tattoos that covered his skin had in fact not been drawn on with marker as some form on juvenile prank and that he would not march himself to the washroom instantly to remove them. However, despite his earnest attempts to explain that the array of symbols and pictures couldn't simply be washed away, the unreasonable old man wasn't going to have any of it and sent him to the Death Room before they had even finished taking attendance.

"But we all know it wasn't your fault," she consoled. "Professor Helsing was the one who was always uptight, but if you think about it I guess we should have thanked him for that. We might not have partnered together if he hadn't sent both of us to Lord Death."

Indeed, following his subsequent visit to the Death Room and a brief chat over tea with Lord Death to clarify the situation at hand, the shinigami sympathetically apologized for the misunderstanding and assured him that while Professor Helsing was an accomplished Meister he also had a tendency to run a very tight ship in his class. The instructor too was later called in, where he received a firm scolding, made to offer up his own apologies, and the incident would be forgiven despite some lingering reluctance.

"Well you didn't have to do what you did either," Craftlove stated, recalling the episode that occurred the following morning that ultimately would end up changing both of their lives.

As he had arrived into his homeroom for his second day of academia, he remembered being overwhelmed by a sudden aura bearing down upon him. Looking about, he found every one of his fellow N.O.T. students staring at him, watching with judgment and quiet whispers. It mattered not that he had been proven innocent by Lord Death because his classmates had already labeled him in their minds as the designated delinquent of Class Rising Sun. Trudging to his seat, he honestly couldn't say he was too terribly surprised by their actions. After all, what better way to be deemed the outcast amongst them than to be the twelve year old boy in a tweed suit covered near head to toe in ancient symbolism who was sent to Lord Death's office within the first ten minutes of being at the Academy? Nevermind that he had never asked to be marked that way or that he could do nothing to remove them because his reputation was now at the mercy of the adolescent rumor mill.

Slumping down behind his desk, he had buried his face in his hands and hoped for nothing else but to disappear, already dreading the remainder of his inaugural year at the DWMA.

"Good morning."

Even after all the years that had passed between them, he could still hear the kindness of those two simple words resonate within his memories and wished he could go back in time and appreciate them more than he had. At that particular moment he had mistaken the greeting as being meant for someone else and so brushed it off and ignored it. Again the girl had extended her salutation, but he offered no acknowledgement or hint of response. So lost was he in his own despondency did he fail to recognize that her words were directed at him and it wasn't until he felt the tap on his shoulder that he was pulled out of his inner dejections. Lifting his head, his eyes fell upon Cana for the very first time, and while he wished he could have said that it was instantaneous love that filled him, it wouldn't be until many years later that true attraction would find them. On that particular day she was clad in a flowing peach-colored sleeveless dress accented with twisting floral patterns around the collar that appeared to hug her body and seem too loose all at once. Outfitted with matching arm sleeves that wrapped around her biceps, vibrant crimson leggings, and simple goldenrod sandals, her Hindi roots were amongst the most evident of traits as he took her in. With her head cocked to the side in curiosity, cascading raven hair left to its own devices formed a veil across the left side of her face and allowed a single soft grey iris to peer through.

She often claimed jokingly that he had stared at her for well over a minute before blinking, although he would adamantly dispute the notion. It couldn't have been for any more than ten seconds at the most.

Without even a word, she gave a faint smile and held her arm outwards towards him. Pulling back the loose peach sleeve, she revealed her own array of blackened ink adorning her skin. Intricate patterns of complex mandalas, blooming flowers, sacred geometries, and other symbols crawled their way from her fingertips up to her shoulders. Whether she had any more hidden behind her clothing still remained a mystery to that day.

"Its henna," she had explained with a knowing grin.

Thoroughly puzzled by the exotic girl's actions, his twelve year old self was unable to form anything resembling a coherent response before the bell to begin class rang and Professor Helsing entered the room. What was even more perplexing was what Cana did next. When called upon for attendance she proudly raised her hand to mark her presence and subsequently allowed the loose sleeve to fall down her arm, exposing her bodily artwork. Needless to say Professor Helsing wasted no time sending her to Lord Death's office, after which he went on an extended rambling about how no student of his would turn into a disrespectful tattooed hooligan on his watch.

Not long after that the orthodox professor and Craftlove would both find themselves summoned before the Grim Reaper for the second time in two days, although to his credit the young Meister hadn't at all the faintest clue at that moment why he had been called back. He deduced that perhaps Lord Death thought he was responsible in influencing the girl to draw on herself, and as he would later find out that was very close to the truth.

"Yes. I see, I see," he vividly recalled the shinigami saying as he bobbed his head enthusiastically in apparent comprehension of the circumstance. "So if I understand this correctly Ms. Mehndi here believed that Mr. Craftlove was singled out unfairly during our little incident yesterday and so decided to do this as her display of solidarity. Well if that's the case I believe I might have a solution for our so called 'delinquents' here. What say we have them partner up for a while and see how it goes, hmmm? I think there might be some potential to be found between them."

There was reservation and a certain degree of uncertainty painted upon his younger self as he heard Lord Death's suggestion. However, on the inside a faint flutter within his chest made its presence known. Whether it was something in his heart or his soul he didn't quite know for sure, but he wanted to say that perhaps Cana felt that same spark as well on that day.

Nearly twenty years after their memorable introduction, he could most assuredly say that she had. It seemed so odd to believe that in what seemed like nothing more than a brief blink of the eye they had emerged from the ranks of Class Rising Sun, completed their fair share of daunting missions against a slew of vile opponents, and emerged as a capable Two Star duo within the halls of the Academy. That same young lad he once was would have no idea the profound ripple that was created by her actions that day.

Shaking him from his musings, a roll of thunder boomed in the distance that with it sent a disturbing chill down his exposed spine and prompted him to raise his face from his palms. Tentatively he rose from the mattress and walked back over to the window that he had just come from, unsure of the source of his dread, but hoping that the apprehension that had blanketed him all night hadn't come to fruition. Throwing the curtain aside, his sight grew wide at the scene before him.

"It's happening."

The Black Blood Moon; that constant reminder of the battle against the Kishin that had dominated the celestial sky for what seemed like for so long now had finally been dethroned by the return of its wicked shining form. No longer crescent in shape, the lunar rock had become warped and near circular with the old omen of blood slipping between its chuckling teeth as it rocked to and fro.

Thumping between his brow, a wave of searing pain sent the professor to his knees as he let out an agonizing groan. Falling into the black, his vision briefly went dark before faint glimpses of transparent phantoms began to play before his mind in rapid succession. Like watching an old grainy film set to fast forward, images of unknown people and places filled his psyche as he struggled to grasp at precisely what was happening to him between the illusions and the burning sensation like a branding iron against his forehead.

There he found himself now in a barren cobblestone alley barely illuminated by candlelight from the adjoining street with a single hooded figure present before him.

"_-been forewarned before- ignorant humans-" _

The figure's voice was muddled and near indecipherable, coming in and out at random, but Craftlove could almost swear it sounded like that of a woman's.

"_What's done is done."_

That was almost certainly a man's voice that time, although he could barely make anything coherent out through the rapid flickering of the scene as they sputtered out of sequence. Between the sensation between his brow and the haze of his mind he could hardly take in any of this new vision he was witnessing.

"_-foolish to allow you here- you do realize- executed for this-" _

"_They'll never know."_

Struggling to make out any words, none came to surface as the only thing Craftlove managed to conjure was a choking gasp of empty breath.

Within the illusion he reached into the inner pocket of a cloak that he failed to recognize as his own and produced a small drawstring bag and presented it to the enigmatic woman, or who he assumed was a woman.

"_-upheld my end-now yours-"_, he said.

Accepting the bag warily, the phantom loosened the strings to inspect the integrity of the contents within then nodded her head in confirmation.

"_There is no return, Aleister." _

Perplexion washed through his psyche to add to the already raging torrent that was overwhelming his senses. For but the briefest of moments he put aside the world around him to ask himself just what the woman meant by her cryptic words. Why on earth had she used his namesake when he was most certainly positive that he had never encountered such a person under those specific circumstances before in his entire life?

Just the simple way she said that one word begged him to focus it in on a point within his mind, latching onto it in some form of distraction from the bombardment all around him. Like a tape stuck a loop, he could almost distinctly hear her repeat it again and again, gaining clarity and volume with each pass.

"_Aleister…Aleister...Aleister…Aleister!"_

And then it all came back to him.

Finding his world gone black once more, the mental images vanished without a trace as well as the scorching sting upon his forehead, leaving only the gasping of his own labored breathing to fill the silence.

"Aleister!" he heard Cana cry out in distress, her delicate hands latched firmly upon his shoulders while he convulsed in a heap upon their bedroom floor. "Aleister!"

Much to her own simultaneous alarm and relief, the professor opened his eyes to meet her own and his shaking began to wane. Releasing a faint sigh of relief, she deduced that her beloved had undergone yet another series of his plaguing terrors, but the face that met her told more to that story. Many a time she had observed the expression he would wear after a nightmare and this was certainly nothing resembling it. Where he usually would heave a deep apologetic breath and take a moment to collect himself after he awoke, he now appeared distant and stunned. Even in the depths of the early hour, she could see the color had drained from his face and his bare skin was cold and clammy to the touch. Over their many years together they had faced an array of the most morally corrupt humans and monsters that roamed the earth, yet she had never seen him so full of dread as she did in that single moment.

"Darling, are you alright?" she questioned with concern as he struggled to pull himself upright. Reaching down, she helped him to his feet, but found him stumbling about with disoriented steps as he regained comprehension of the world around him.

Bending over with his hands on his knees, he allotted a moment to pass to allow his rampant state of mind to settle from what he had bore witness to.

"Cana…we have to go," he forced out.

"Go?" the woman replied with a puzzled look, taken aback by the sudden statement. "What are you talking about? Go where?"

"We have to help them," he muttered almost absently to himself.

"Help who?" Cana demanded to know, growing increasingly frightened with every moment she spent attempting to decipher his vague words. "For goodness sake, Aleister, what are you talking about?! Help who?!"

Pulling himself back to his full height, the distress that came from his voice betrayed the exhaustion of his psychic ordeal.

"The moon, Cana!" he practically pleaded, grabbing her by the shoulders and twisting her towards the window. "Look at the moon!"

Gazing upwards out from behind the glass, the woman hadn't even stopped to notice the yellow light that cast itself into her home, sprawling shadows across her form where for so long there had been only pure darkness. A chilling fear befell her that she hadn't felt in almost a year's time as she took in its newly deformed shape and the lowly cackle that the celestial entity emitted as scarlet dripped from behind its sinister mouth.

"What in the…?" she managed to say, trembling at an almost complete loss for words as she took it all in. "I-I don't understand. Does this mean that the Demon Swordsman…the Kishin?"

"I don't know," Craftlove admitted solemnly, unsure on the fine details of the events unfolding in the sky. "Believe me, I wish I did, but it doesn't matter how now. We have to go."

"Aleister," she addressed, her ordinarily sweet and empathetic tone now turned stern and demanding. "You can explain yourself later, but you better tell me right now what it is you've been seeing in your dreams. I know you worry about the ripple effect of your curse, but right now is not the time for you to be keeping secrets from me. I know you've been dreading something for weeks now so there's no use hiding it anymore."

Pausing, the tenseness that was wrought throughout her body was evident as she leaned forward on the tips of her toes, cupping his face and bringing it down to meet her own. The tenderness of her soul had returned, but an underlying trembling could still be felt in her touch.

"I'm begging you, please tell me," she implored. "What's going to happen?"

Tilting his head towards the floor, the professor released a sorrowful breath, knowing that with each passing second they were wasting precious time to undo what fate had shown him. Try as he had for the passing weeks to live a normal life both for his sake and Cana's, there was no skirting around it anymore. The moment had long since frittered away where he should have spoken of it, however it wouldn't have made any difference. Fate was a cruel and conniving mistress that always took that which she deemed to be hers no matter how much one attempted to stand in opposition.

Bringing his head back up to meet her, he laid out before her the simple, unfiltered truth about his premonitions and all the hellish details they contained. His words were quick, yet thorough in conveying their meaning, knowing that with each passing second they were squandering time. All the while she listened intently, clinging onto every vision that he spoke of with the upmost attention. Deep inside her soul she prayed that her beloved was wrong or that what he had envisioned was erroneous in nature, but she couldn't remain in denial for long. Outside her window she could hear the droning wail of sirens make their call across the desert and her heart sank as she came to terms that they could not merely avoid what was about to transpire.

"Is there anything we could have done?" she finally questioned, her heart heavy with remorse.

"No," Craftlove dejectedly replied, casting his sight away momentarily. "But we can change it. Even if it's one life, we can change it."

"Then we need to hurry. Lord Death has already sounded the alarm," Cana nodded, twisting about abruptly and striding rapidly over to the master closet so that she could change from her nightgown. Slipping it off, she rushed to don a burgundy kurti with teal floral arrangements, loose cream pants, and low black heels. With no time to do her hair she left it as it was, permitting a wave of it to conceal a portion of her face.

Adequately prepared, she stepped back into the illumination of their bedroom, unsure if it might be the last time she would ever lay eyes upon it. Captured by a flicker, she turned her head to spy the moonlight reflecting off a picture frame of her and Aleister on one of their prior vacations in the mountains. Their faces were partially covered by ski goggles, yet their smiles were all they needed to show to convey their affection.

All she desired now more than anything was to make it through whatever lay in store for them so that they might make memories such as that for many more years to come. More importantly, though, so that others may have that same opportunity as well.

Not soon thereafter, Craftlove reappeared behind her, finishing buttoning up the breast of his tweed coat as he did so. While his suit wasn't nearly as pressed and properly groomed as he would have preferred it to be, the circumstances dictated he best not fret about such trivial matters at the moment.

The Two Star felt the shift in her soul before he even saw it upon her features. Gone was her personifying timbre laced with compassion and benevolence, replaced now by one that was burdened by the weight of countless innocent souls. The same tender grey irises she had moments prior were now narrow and focused, emitting a razor-sharp glare from behind her raven veil. In a certain sense it pained him to know that part of her distress was by his own doings in keeping his visions from her, but he knew that she wouldn't place any blame upon him no matter how much it might be justified. Nevertheless, to see the gentleness fade from her soul and be replaced by stirring waves of anger, helplessness, and uncertainty did nothing to ease his already brooding spirit.

"Cana," he addressed lowly, placing a shaking hand upon her shoulder. Without a word her answer came in the form of a brilliant flash of light as she transformed herself. Shifting and contorting in the blackness, she landed easily within his grasp, their souls entwined not only by the ties of love, but by the oaths of Meister and Weapon.

"It's been a while since we've been in the field, hasn't it?" he asked as the radiant glow of her Weapon form shattered in his hand. There was moment's pause as he awaited her reply, watching as the moonlight glinted upon the relief of sharpened steel. Then at last she spoke with a hardened voice that conveyed her words as an acute affirmation and undisputable declaration of intent.

"_I've still got my edge."_

* * *

Upon her heavenly perch, the rebirthed Mother Witch basked in the glory that was the Madness of Chaos, watching with rapturous elation at the blanket of havoc that was beginning to envelope the earthly body below. Lights belonging to vast and various cities before her began to waver and eventually extinguish as their slumbering patrons awakened to the mass-educed panic that befell them. Grinning in marvel of her Madness, she knew that the first to succumb to Chaos would be her fellow witches followed closely by the weak-hearted souls of the world. With their natural affinity for discord swelling within their souls, they would cause a plethora of unrest for the Grim Reaper and his forces scattered throughout the globe. And that was only the tip of the proverbial iceberg.

"Breathtaking, is it not, Inu?" Hecate questioned in rhetoric, rubbing her hand through the brimstone fur of her lieutenant familiar. Replying in a throaty growl of approval, the hell hound turned her snout to the Book of Eibon that remained in her mistress's possession and gave a faint snarl.

"Hmm?" she hummed in inquiry for a moment before remembering what remained inside the magical text. "Oh, yes, of course. I suppose I should probably inform them that they are free to withdraw from the book now."

Huffing faintly in annoyance, she found the act of mild irritation not in part to the notion that she felt like she owed them any debt for her freedom, but that she rather enjoyed the moment's peace and quiet having just defeated one of her former Warlords and sealed him away within the core of the earth. However, the situation just couldn't be helped she supposed. She did have a new shinigami she needed to pay tribute to after all and a little extra ruination to add to the mix would only make their eventual meeting that much more satisfactory.

"Pha, stropha, pha, phalo," she incanted mundanely, levitating the Book of Eibon and giving a quick flick of her finger. Opening to its center, the pages of the text unleashed a swirling vortex that released Sibylla and Orobo from its confines, placing them beside her. They were followed shortly thereafter by Gopher and the Wrath Noah in a most unceremonious of fashions in which they were practically spat out of the Book of Eibon like particularly bitter morsels.

"Argh…what the hell?" Wrath groaned, wincing his eyes before realizing he was now lying sprawled out on top of his minion.

"Noah-sama," Gopher practically cooed in adoration of their unforeseen position. "I can feel your heart beating, Noah-sama."

Giving a mighty shove against the teen, the sorcerer let out a prolonged string of seething swears as he scrambled to his feet. Putting a considerate distance between them, his anger quickly redirected itself from his clingy underling to Hecate, who he eyed with an unamused leer.

"Hope you found that funny, witch," he muttered beneath his breath.

"Quite," the Mother Witch quipped simply in reply, having heard him. "However, the time for gaiety has not yet been reached. While the Madness of Chaos is indeed spreading throughout the souls of the world, it will not be done without opposition from the Reaper."

Her words of discretion, however, fell on absent ears as the two remaining members of their party gazed about the shining lunar landscape with awestruck expressions.

"The Kishin," Sibylla finally managed to question with newfound hesitance. "Is…is he…?"

"Imprisoned once more within a magical barrier and banished to a place where he shall reside until the end of days," Hecate answered with a hint of wicked satisfaction. "His derangement and ferocity were just as I remember them being all those years ago. Nevertheless, despite all his blustering about being an almighty God of Fear he was held captive by a mere child who wielded the power of BREW and therefore I cannot attribute much credit to him. That is only a testament to the might of Eibon and nothing more."

Turning the cube lightly in her hand, a snicker of repugnance crossed her lips at her mentioning of the sorcerer. To believe that within her palm she now held one of the Demon Tools created by him was almost too much to fathom.

"Hecate," Orobo addressed, pulling the Mother Witch from her line of thought. "What became of the Demon Swordsman?"

"I have no interest in the fate of the child," she replied coldly. "They were nothing more than a minor nuisance at most, so I let them play with my babies while I vanquished Asura. However, I naturally assume they were swallowed up alongside him and now share his eternal place of residence. With Asura eliminated as a threat my focus is now upon the newly-crowned Reaper and this school of followers you speak of."

"The shinigami is hardly an issue we need be concerned about, Hecate," Sibylla stated with a hidden smirk. "With your Madness filling the souls of witches everywhere his arsenal of Death Scythes should be incapable of posing any threat to us. The same souls of our sisters that they consumed in order to gain their power will now become the harbingers of their ultimate destruction."

"The extent of your ambitions and cunning are admirable, but you assume too much, child," Hecate replied with slight condescension, making the Fly Witch balk momentarily at her remark. "Even without his Death Scythes the Grim Reaper remains a formidable adversary. However, the fact does remain that this is not the same one I once knew so I'm intrigued as to his successor's capabilities. If the same blood runs in his veins as the Death of my past he will not succumb to any threat to his precious 'order' without fierce resistance."

"So what would you suggest we do then?" Wrath questioned warily with an interjecting sneer, not at all doubting the wisdom of one of the Eight Warlords, but silently reluctant to place the entirety of his trust in her.

Looking down into the two articles of Eibon she carried in either hand, Hecate had no hesitation in her mind about what needed to be done. Her disciples of Chaos were already aware of it as well, as they were the ones who had set this entire chain of events into motion via her resurrection. The gears of destiny were now gaining steam and soon they would be spinning with reckless abandon into the throngs of mayhem.

Turning to face the Noah, Hecate extended her right hand that gripped the magical book. Who was to say she couldn't give her glorious Chaos a little zing for extra satisfaction?

"I was informed that as per the conditions of your assistance in my rebirthing the Book of Eibon would be returned to you," she said, smiling lightly. "If that is the case then it is only fair that your agreement be fulfilled, wouldn't you say?"

Crossing his arms across his chest, Wrath eyed the gesture with a scowl of conflicted contempt. Despite the Madness radiating throughout his being tempting him to take the book and unleash every ounce of his fury upon Shibusen, there was the tiny string of thought that lingered within his mind that remained ever distrusting of two witches and the mage.

"What's the catch?" he growled lowly.

"I have no intention of deceiving you," Hecate replied, her tone hardening as she propositioned with the suspecting sorcerer. "You and your subordinate are both part of this book, are you not? It is only natural that the book should be wielded by you then. It carries no value to me, therefore it is futile for me to burden myself by not utilizing its potential. My only condition for relinquishing it to you is that I ask you to make a simple promise to me."

"What?" Wrath snarled with brow cocked.

Unable to suppress her elation within the moment, a sinister Cheshire grin began to form that brought her fanged canines to bear.

"Bring Chaos to the Reaper's doorstep," she instructed. "Introduce this school of his to the true meaning of ruination and leave no soul untouched by your hand. It is evident that the fire of your soul is fanned by the winds of desolation, so why not spread those flames throughout the lands? Do that which you were meant to do. That is my only requirement."

Reaching out, Wrath took the Book of Eibon in hand, keeping his leering gaze trained on the Mother Witch before him all the while. With faint disbelief in his good fortune, Hecate released the text from her grasp without reluctance, ensuring that the contract made all those months ago with the amber-eyed witch and her mage servant had been fulfilled. Touching the archaic leather of the book, he could practically feel his natural impulse for rage multiplying tenfold from the sheer magical power that lay within its pages.

This time around it was Wrath who was unable to disguise his inner emotions. Smirking to himself, the supposed mother of all witches had no inkling of the magnitude of the mistake she had just committed by so willingly handing him the one article he craved more than anything else in the world. For within his possession he now commanded the key to dispensing rage upon whomever he saw fit, whether they be foe or otherwise.

"With pleasure."

* * *

Deep in the midst of the ungodly morning hour, the chattering ping of a telephone echoed throughout a spacious apartment. Moving from its origin in the master bedroom, the dial floated past the suave and modern furnishings of the penthouse, down the staircase, and into the upscale, yet empty living room and kitchen. Falling silent for but a brief moment, it resumed in its clamoring chime for the third straight time without answer, but not without proper reason. The two individuals who at the current moment occupied the quarters were indeed wide awake, however, it was not by any means due to the abruptness of their late night inquiry.

Staggering blindly with near intoxicated movements, Spirit felt for the door of his master bath, searching desperately for the little panel that would turn on the overhead lights. Fumbling within the darkness, the Death Scythe found the switch after several failed attempts which forced him to squint his eyes back shut as the vanity bulbs cast their blinding glow.

Groaning as he forced himself to look into the mirror before him, he clutched the countertop in a straining grip. Appalled by what he found in his reflection, he saw two of his black and grey scythe blades protruding from his back. Curling sharply, they nearly pierced their way into the mirror before they flashed in a burst of white light, adding a third edge to the duo. Then to his perplexion they vanished just as easily, leaving him hunched over the sink with his night shirt draped in tatters about his sweat-drenched chest and shoulders.

Gasping sharply, his hand rose up to grab at his heart, feeling something from within him that he couldn't describe in his current condition. It wasn't as though there was anything physically alive, yet he knew that there was something burning within his core vying to escape. It filled him with unimaginable thoughts that were not of his right mind, tempting him like a little devil to give into irrational, erratic tendencies. Beyond the mental bombardment he was receiving his body was going haywire and acting without his consent as well, only adding another layer of complexity to the situation. Outside his apartment the sirens from the emergency broadcast screeched without pause, mixing in with the rumbles of ever-frequenting thunder.

"What the heck's going on?" he muttered, winching as once more his scythe blades appeared and retracted rapidly at random.

"Spirit!"

The panicked, feminine cry that rang out to him came from the second occupant of the redhead's home. Entering the light that filled the bath, Cyran Brize approached the distressed Death Scythe with hands cupped over her face as though on the brink of tears. Clad in her turquoise nightgown that flowed loosely around her, she stopped just outside the range of his seemingly sentient and erratic edges, watching in both horror and comprehension of what was transpiring.

"Stay back!" he commanded sharply in a tone so unlike any he had ever directed towards her before. However, rather than comply with his demand, the woman dropped to her knees upon the tile floor and began to shudder and writhe.

"Cyran!" he called out, releasing his firm grip upon the granite fixture and falling down in front of her. Disregarding his own warning, he took hold of her quivering shoulders and brought her up to face him. Keeping her head buried within her cupped hands, the Death Scythe found a precious moment of mental clarity to gently pry them away. Beneath them he found her face to be ghostly white, drained of all color save for the sapphire in her irises. With quivering lips, an empty breath came forth before she finally found her voice in a trembling timbre.

"Something's wrong," she managed to say. "The Pull…it's never been like this before. I-I don't understand. It's always been there, but now…"

Raising her head sharply, Cyran snapped her hands up and latched upon the Death Scythe's biceps, digging into flesh with painted nails.

"How many are there, Spirit?!" she questioned frantically in a desperate plea. "How many witches are in the city right now?!"

"I-uh…" Spirit stammered, wracking his jumbled mind for some form of coherent answer. "Fifteen?! Twenty, maybe?! I-I don't know!"

True fear befell the older witch as she quickly came to terms with what that information meant for them. If there were even five other members of the Coven experiencing the same sensation that she was within the vicinity of Death City they were all in grave peril. However, if what Spirit had said about there being upwards to twenty of them currently nearby she couldn't even begin to imagine what lay in store for her, the Death Scythe, and everyone else.

"Spirit, listen to me carefully," Cyran implored fearfully. "I don't know what's happening, but right now the Pull of Magic is stronger than I've ever felt it in my life. I can't resist it for much longer, so I need you to do exactly what I tell you, understand?"

Waiting a single moment for him to confirm her words, she resumed.

"Run, please," she trembled. "Leave the city as fast as you can. Go to the desert and find somewhere safe to stay until the morning comes. Don't stop for anyone and don't look back."

"Maka?" he questioned in swift rebuttal, the thought of his only child being the first to come to mind.

"If you truly love your daughter then you'll stay away from her," Cyran tried to explain as best as she knew how. "I know this is difficult to ask of you, but somehow the soul within you that gives you the abilities as a Death Scythe has awoken. Both you and I are under the influence of the Pull, meaning if you were to be near Maka there's no telling what might happen. You could very well end up hurting her, or worse. _I _might end up hurting you. The only thing you can do is stay away from anyone, including myself and her."

Casting his head down towards the tile floor, Spirit allowed the woman's words to sink in for a moment before his entire body slumped in an exhaustive sigh. Flashing white, the scythe blades protruding from his spine retreated once more, leaving him all but shirtless with the witch's fingernails still digging painfully into his arms. He didn't understand how or why all of this was transpiring around him, but he knew that there was no avoiding the inevitability that it was happening nonetheless. Cyran's explanation had made the picture just clear enough for him to understand that the second soul inside of him, that of the witch Theodora he and Maka's mother had defeated all those years ago, was reacting to some unknown force. Every temptation, every primordial impulse, every desire for discord that Theodora once had now ran rampant through his veins.

And yet he couldn't help but turn a smug grin at the thought of it all. Lifting his head up, he looked Cyran in the eyes bearing his trademark suave.

"Like hell I'm running away," he remarked coolly. "How would I be able to call myself a Death Scythe then, huh? And I'd rather die a thousand times over than hurt a single hair on my precious Maka's head. No stupid 'Pull of Magic' is gonna turn me against her."

"I'm begging you, Spirit, this is no time for foolish pride!" Cyran implored quickly in refutation. "You have no idea of the power of what we're dealing with! If you don't run you could very well end up doing something that you never thought possible! If the Pull continues like this for much longer nobody you care for is sa-!"

Cut off from her desperate warnings, a sharp pang of returning wavelength overwhelmed both their souls within the moment, rendering them incapable of resistance to its force. Falling away from his arms, their hands found the tile as they succumbed to the call of the Pull, writhing and moaning all the while. From his exposed back, two, then three, then five sharpened blades emerged in erratic bursts, nearly skewering the witch right in front of him. Letting loose with an agonizing roar, the Death Scythe brought his fist down upon the floor, shattering the ceramic below. Staggering to his feet, he grabbed hold of the crowning to the sink for support only to spy the reflection of the five scythes protruding from him. Looking to his bloodstained hand, he willfully transformed the appendage into a blade as well, eyeing his heart frantically.

"Get out of me!" he directed a cry to the source of all his temptation, ready to cut the witch's soul from him. However, before he was able to perform a hasty surgical operation upon himself, a strong, yet delicate hand caught his wrist.

"As I've said before, there is no fighting this, Spirit," Cyran stated with a hauntingly calm demeanor as she gazed upon him from within the mirror. "This is the nature of witches, whether we wish it to be or not. Desolation and upheaval are to us as water and air are to your kind and now you too know its impression upon the soul. If it's any comfort to you I wish none of this were happening and that we could continue this spark we've found, but it cannot."

"I'm sorry," she offered, her voice carrying with it the faintest hint of remorse.

Releasing her grip upon Spirit, the witch turned her back to him and walked slowly from the bathroom back into the master bed. Lowering her head as she approached the windows at the far end she began to utter incantations softly to herself, her hands beginning to radiate a turquoise glow around them as she did so.

"Aniso, Oda, Odana, Ishnu," she recited, the radiance about her delicate fingertips becoming a sapphire flame. "Oda, Oda, Ishnu, Ani…Aniso, Oda, Odana, Ishnu."

"Oda, Oda, Ishnu, Ani," she finished.

Rattling the surrounding expanse of the cityscape, a flash of infernal blue and white consumed the penthouse, blasting out windows and portions of the wall in a deafening explosion. Mixing in with the wails of the sirens and fellow sounds of thunder nearby in a harmony of turmoil, the crackle of the engulfing blaze reached its crescendo as sapphire embers rose against the backdrop of the bloody moon.

* * *

**A/N: Wow, that took long enough. My deepest, sincerest apologies everyone, but I never thought this chapter would take seven months to get to you. I really didn't mean for it to happen like that. The good news though is I'm not dead. There's just so much going on in my life right now its nuts. I'm incredibly busy with my new career path as an apprentice and learning the ins and outs of my new craft. That being said, I'm currently working seven days a week with two jobs with very little time for personal stuff to help keep my head above water, so that's a big factor in the delay. Ain't no rest for the weary though. I've come too far to back out now, so here's to hoping one day the struggle will pay off. I have faith it will. **

**Now onto the story. There's a lot of implication and unknowns I've snuck in here on purpose. A lot of it ties into subtle dialogue from previous chapters, so if you're up for it it might help to just start rereading from the beginning. Not necessary however. **

**I also want to say a bit on this final scene with Spirit and Cyran. From what I can tell from the manga its sometimes hard to deduce when a witch is supposedly "under" the influence of the Pull. Sometimes its apparent and sometimes its implied. This makes writing it a bit of a challenge so I hope I've portrayed it to your standards. This was something different for me because I'm trying to write solely what I believe would be the appropriate character response to a new situation. Spirit is a good example of this. I wanted to portray Spirit with a real sense of panic for the first time. As we know Spirit is known for remaining exceptionally composed and suave in dangerous situations, but I wanted to create a situation that forces him against that nature. I hope I delivered and have left you all in anticipation. **

**I have no idea when the next installment will drop, but I will try to the best of my abilities to make it reasonable. Please bear with me as I try to survive this game known as adulthood. **

**Until next time,**

**K.K.**

**P.S.: Rest in Peace Chris Cornell. Your contributions to the world of rock will forever remain legendary. Say Hello to Heaven \m/**


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